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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE   STORY 


OF 


LAWRENCE  GARTHE 


BY 


ELLEN  OLNEY  KIRK 

AUTHOR  OF  "  QUEEN  MONEY,"  "  MARGARET  KENT,"  ETC. 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 
,  Cambrit>0e 


Copyright,  1KH, 
Br  ELLEN   OLNET  KIRK. 

All  right*  reserved. 


Tht  Rirtrride  Prett,  Cambridge,  Mats.,  F.  S.  A. 
Dectrotyped  »nd  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  and  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB  PA.GH 

I.  A  DISAPPOINTMENT 5 

II.  HOW   IT   STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY              .           .  25 

III.  WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO 46 

IV.  THE  GODS  ARRIVE 80 

V.  HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE   .        .        .  106 

VI.  "  SHE  SHOULD  NEVER  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  MB  "  127 

VII.  BELLA  AND  EUGENIA 162 

VIII.  KATHLEEN  MAKES  UP  HER  MIND      .        .        .  194 

IX.  AT    THE   FlN-DE-SlECLE 217 

X.  AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER    ....  231 

XL  BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE     ....  262 

XII.  GARTHE  AND  LARRY 288 

XIII.  SUNDAY  EVENING 298 

XIV.  LARRY  HAS  A  VISITOR 315 

XV.  A  DREAM  COME  TRUE 335 

XVI.  A  TEST 364 

XVII.  MR.  MARCHMONT  FINDS  HIS  WAY  MADE  CLEAR.  377 

XVIII.  FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION    .        .        .  387 

XIX.  RENUNCIATION 407 

XX.  AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN          .        .        .  432 


39377ft 


THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   DISAPPOINTMENT. 

THE  ladies  were  expected  every  moment ;  so  the 
servant  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Garner's  house  on  Lex 
ington  Avenue  told  Ferdinand  Hartley.  Accord 
ingly,  saying  that  he  would  await  their  return,  he 
entered  the  drawing-room,  which  was  lighted  by  a 
great  lamp,  with  a  flame-colored  shade,  and  an 
open  fire  of  coals,  sat  down  in  a  low  chair,  put  his 
hat  on  the  floor,  and  congratulated  himself  on  this 
quiet  interval,  which  offered  him  a  chance  to 
marshal  his  ideas  in  fair  and  logical  order  and 
decide  upon  his  plan  of  action.  It  was,  however, 
no  easy  matter  to  concentrate  his  thoughts.  He 
could  hardly  account  for  his  own  nervousness. 
Twice  in  his  life  before  he  had  made  an  offer  of 
marriage,  in  each  experience  meeting  a  sharp 
reverse ;  but  in  those  cases  he  had  touched  upon 
the  subject  in  cold  blood,  had  attempted  to  rouse 
ardor  when  he  had  no  ardor  himself.  Now  he  had 
no  reason  for  misgiving,  for  he  was  absolutely 
sincere.  He  had  long  looked  the  confession  he  had 


6  TUK  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

not  permitted  himself  to  utter  in  words,  and  was 
assured  of  success.  He  could  not  understand  why 
his  heart  was  beating  rapidly  when  he  ought  to 
have  been  calm  and  self-possessed,  like  the  man  of 
the  world  he  aimed  to  be.  But  then,  who  except 
a  median  ical  puppet  is  ever,  to  his  own  con 
sciousness,  a  man  of  the  world  ? 

Hartley  possessed,  in  general,  much  happy  dex 
terity  in  playing  any  role  he  assumed.  He  was 
thirty  years  of  age,  extremely  handsome,  with 
dark,  laughing  blue  eyes,  curly  brown  hair,  a  closely 
clipped  beard  trimmed  neatly  to  a  point ;  and,  with 
out  any  fatuous  air  of  vanity,  gave  an  impression, 
not  only  of  feeling  in  high  good  humor  with  him 
self,  but  of  being  used  to  the  good  opinion  of  his 
neighbors.  His  parents  had  been  New  Yorkers. 
His  one  sister  was  well  married  in  the  city.  He 
was  no  unknown  adventurer  compelled  to  prove  to 
the  world  that  he  was  worth  acceptance  socially. 
He  had  always  been  accepted,  was  part  and  parcel 
of  society,  reckoned  on  everywhere  and  made  room 
for.  At  this  moment  he  still  wore  a  bridal  favor 
in  his  buttonhole,  having  been  best  man  at  a 
wedding ;  but  he  had  been  asked  more  than  once 
during  the  afternoon  if  anything  had  gone  wrong, 
—  what  was  troubling  him.  He  himself  had  been 
conscious  of  being  out  of  spirits,  ill  at  ease.  The 
truth  was,  his  peace  of  mind  had  been  spoiled  by 
bis  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Garner  at  the  reception,  her 
little  head  in  air  as  she  stood  surrounded  by  a  group 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  1 

of  men,  her  charming  face  aglow,  her  blue  eyes 
aflame,  as  she  poured  out,  with  the  spontaneity  and 
effervescence  which  characterized  her,  a  flood  of  talk 
which  seemed  to  delight  her  auditors.  Hartley, 
held  at  his  post,  tied  by  the  leg  as  it  were,  had  been 
constrained  to  look  on  perturbed  by  jealousy,  and  the 
moment  he  could  get  away  had  followed  her  home. 

He  had  visited  intimately  at  this  house  for  almost 
two  years,  and  everything  in  these  rooms,  the 
chairs,  the  sofas,  the  little  desk,  strewn  with  silver 
implements  and  delicately  bordered  mourning 
paper,  the  palms  in  the  great  china  jars,  the  chrys^ 
anthemums  in  the  crystal  bowls,  were  as  familiar  as 
his  own  belongings.  What  an  opportunity  his  had 
been,  and  how  incomprehensible  it  seemed  now  that 
he  had  not  made  use  of  his  unique  advantages  ! 
He  had  become  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Garner  and 
her  step- daughter,  Constance,  while  they  were 
still  in  the  deepest  mourning,  secluded  from  the 
world,  always  at  home,  always  together,  —  like 
Helena  and  Hermia  as  they  created  both  one 
flower,  "  both  warbling  of  one  song."  Perhaps  the 
reason  Hartley  had  lingered  and  loitered  along  the 
pleasant  road  of  easy  intimacy  was  that  his  heart, 
although  touched  on  the  instant,  had  not  been 
fixed.  He  had  felt  their  interfused  charm,  and  had 
made  the  most  of  that  exquisite  pause  of  time 
which  a  man  experiences  in  halting  before  two 
women  whom  he  admires  equally. 

Still  he   was   not,  in   general,  a  man  given   to 


8          THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

vague  romantic  longings.  He  knew  what  he  longed 
for,  and  was  ready  to  discard  fancies  and  motives 
which  were  not  supreme.  Thus  he  had  used  his  in 
sight,  his  powers  of  observation,  and  had  gradually 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  Mrs.  Garner 
whom  he  wished  to  marry.  He  could  not  feel 
certain  that  Constance  was  conquerable,  while  he 
believed  that  Kathleen  was.  At  this  moment,  while 
he  waited,  his  mind  was  taken  up  with  recollections, 
images,  forecasts,  all  of  which  pointed  to  the  con 
clusion  that  he  had  touched  her  heart.  But  why 
had  he  left  himself  at  the  mercy  of  events  instead 
of  himself  appointing  them?  He  seemed,  until 
to-day,  to  have  forgotten  that  he  could  have  rivals, 
and  had  trusted  altogether  to  the  chapter  of  chances. 
He  had  come  determined  to  end  his  uncertainty. 

The  hall  clock  struck  the  half  hour  past  five,  and 
in  another  moment  Mrs.  Garner  and  her  step 
daughter  entered,  full  of  apologies  for  their  tardi 
ness.  They  had  gone  on  from  the  wedding  to 
take  a  cup  of  tea  with  Mrs.  Challoner,  and  talk  it 
over.  Mr.  Marchmont  had  come  in,  and  after 
wards  had  walked  home  with  them  in  the  twilight 
of  the  late  November  day. 

"  I  did  not  see  John  Marchmont  at  the  wedding," 
said  Hartley. 

"  He  says  he  never  goes  to  weddings,"  explained 
Mi's.  Garner,  speaking  always  in  the  same  sweet 
veiled  Southern  voice.  "He  says  he  never  even 
reads  marriage  notices,  —  that  they  make  him  so 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

envious  he  tears  his  hair  and  rages  generally.  I  tell 
him  he  idealizes  the  thing ;  that  there  is  an  immense 
amount  of  illusion  about  it.  Still,  how  delightful 
it  all  was,"  she  sighed,  dropping,  as  she  spoke,  into 
her  favorite  corner  of  the  sofa  and  pulling  off  her 
gloves.  "  It  has  put  a  thousand  new  ideas  into  my 
head.  I  have  lost  all  sense  of  my  own  individuality. 
I  keep  saying  to  myself,  4  Why  am  I  not  exactly 
eighteen  ?  '  4  Why  am  I  not  coming  out  this  sea 
son  ?  '  '  Why  was  it  not  I  who  was  married  to-day 
and  setting  off  on  a  wedding  journey,  with  great 
trunks  full  of  beautiful  new  gowns ! ' : 

"  Wonderful  unanimity  of  feeling ! "  put  in 
Hartley.  "  I  wanted  it  to  be  my  wedding  day.  I 
wanted  to  be  setting  off  on  a  wedding  journey/' 

Her  blue  eyes  regarded  him  pensively  a  moment ; 
then  she  went  on  :  "  So  many  sensations  rushing  to 
gether  at  once  quite  intoxicated  me.  But  you  see 
I  had  quite  forgotten  how  agreeable  society  is. 
I  had  been  absolutely  contented  shut  up  here  with 
Constance,  getting  through  two  pages  of  German 
a  day,  practicing  Schumann,  and  reading  the  Eliz 
abethan  poets.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  myself  a 
person  of  rather  superior  tastes,  bent  on  culture. 
But  the  moment  I  walked  up  the  church  aisle  and 
heard  the  organ  playing  the  overture  to  Tannhauser, 
I  knew  that  my  intellectuality  was  all  a  pretense. 
Constance  may  like  ideas,  but  what  I  care  about 
is  people,  —  the  new  gowns  the  women  have  on, 
the  kind  of  flowers  men  wear  in  their  buttonholes ; 


10        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

how  they  all  look,  stand,  sit,  shake  hands  ;  above  all, 
what  they  are  all  talking  about." 

"  Everybody  at  the  wedding  was  talking  about 
you  and  Miss  Constance,"  said  Hartley.  "The 
bride  had  no  chance  at  all.  Even  the  bridegroom 
was  saying  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  see  you  both 
out  again." 

"  Yes,  everybody  was  talking  about  us ;  and  could 
any  subject  be  more  interesting  ?  " 

"Unluckily,  it  will  soon  be  exhausted,"  said 
Constance.  "  There  is  only  one  possible  first 
appearance." 

Both  women  were  attractive,  and  both  had  sweet 
voices.  Mrs.  Garner's  was  delicate  in  inflection 
and  in  quality  of  tone  ;  but  from  her  habit  of  drop 
ping  the  final  consonants  of  certain  words  and 
changing  the  values  of  the  vowels,  the  effect, 
although  musical,  was  blurred  and  a  little  indistinct. 
Constance,  on  the  other  hand,  spoke  invariably  in 
a  very  soft,  but  clear  and  deliberate  voice,  with  a 
peculiar  effect  of  finish  to  her  least  phrase.  Mrs. 
Garner  was  very  fair  in  complexion,  with  light, 
fluffy  hair  of  a  beautiful  shade,  large  blue  eyes,  a 
sensitive  pair  of  lips,  a  fitful  color  and  a  charming 
smile.  In  manner  she  was  by  turns  possessed  by  an 
invincible  shyness  which  seemed  to  bind  her  hand 
and  foot  and  to  forbid  her  raising  her  eyes  from 
the  floor,  and  carried  away  by  her  high  spirits 
to  the  very  verge  of  audacity.  Although  she  was 
five  years  older  than  her  step-daughter,  from  the 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  11 

aerial  effect  of  her  hair  and  coloring  she  looked 
younger.  Constance  wore  her  dark  hair  drawn 
straight  away  from  her  low,  broad  forehead  and 
temples ;  her  eyes  were  dark  beneath  very  level 
brows,  and  she  had  a  sweet,  serious  face  with  a 
peculiarly  earnest,  childish  way  of  looking  squarely 
at  the  person  she  addressed  or  listened  to.  This 
childish  simplicity  of  glance  was  combined  with  a 
childish  integrity  of  manner.  One  had  invariably 
a  sense  of  her  thinking  out  her  own  thoughts  from 
her  own  instincts  and  beliefs,  and  the  occasional 
soft  glow  and  vehemence,  which  at  times  endowed 
her  with  magnetic  charm,  seemed  to  come  from  a 
real  inner  fire  of  feeling.  Subtleties  apart,  the  way 
she  spoke  and  met  the  speech  of  others  showed 
instant  sympathy  and  intelligence.  Both  she  and 
Mrs.  Garner  were  in  plain  black  gowns  of  artistic 
fit  with  little  bonnets  of  jet,  but  in  neither  case  was 
the  sombre  attire  unbecoming. 

"This  is  actually  Constance's  coming  out,  you 
know,  Mr.  Hartley,' '  Mrs.  Gar n er  continued .  ' '  Five 
years  ago  she  was  to  have  had  a  grand  debut,  but 
her  sister,  Mrs.  Goddard,  was  ill  all  that  autumn 
and  winter.  Then  the  next  October  our  deluge 
came,  and  everything  in  this  house  was  at  an  end. 
If  I  could  do  what  I  liked  I  should  give  her  a  tea, 
a  series  of  dinners,  and  a  ball.  But  then  I  never 
can  do  what  I  like." 

"  In  this  instance  I  am  glad  you  cannot,"  Con 
stance  struck  in  on  the  instant.  "  The  idea  of  a 


12        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

girl  of  twenty-four  having  a  ball !  It  would  be 
like  offering  me  a  rattle  box  and  coral  because  1 
happened  to  have  been  neglected  in  iny  infancy." 

"You  see  Constance  has  no  illusions  about 
society,"  said  Mrs.  Garner.  a  She  sees  things 
exactly  as  they  are.  Mr.  Marchmont  insists  that 
I  never  do,  —  that  my  way  is  to  seize  some  idea 
which  pleases  me,  put  a  halo  round  it,  and  call  it  a 
fact." 

"  I  hope  that  description  applies  to  me,"  said 
Hartley,  feeling  as  if,  in  spite  of  his  virile  determina 
tion  to  assert  himself,  he  was  a  mere  eddy  carried 
away  by  the  race  of  this  full  stream. 

Mrs.  Garner  at  first  looked  inquisitive,  then 
blushed,  and  dropped  her  eyes,  and,  as  if  hurrying 
away  from  a  personal  subject,  proceeded :  "  I  was 
telling  Mrs.  Challoner  about  the  wedding  presents, 
for  being  cousins  we  were  admitted  to  the  private 
view  yesterday.  Thirteen  sets  of  costly  plates  and 
nine  silver  chafing-dishes !  I  could  perceive  that 
Constance  was  just  a  little  shocked  that  I  should 
have  counted  the  plates  and  chafing-dishes,  not 
to  say  the  afternoon  tea-sets  and  twenty  other 
things  in  profusion  !  What  strikes  me  dumb  with 
awe,  she  regards  as  nothing  in  particular.  I  tell 
her  she  is  like  Princess  Clotilde  at  the  court  of 
Napoleon  Third,  who,  when  the  Empress  remarked 
upon  her  taking  all  the  high  ceremonials  without 
making  a  fuss,  replied,  '  Mais  jy  suis  habituee  !  ' 
After  all,  unless  somebody  is  to  be  surprised  by  it, 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  13 

what  is  the  use  of  such  splendor  ?  There  could 
be  no  fun  at  all  in  vain  shows  unless  society  were 
reinforced  constantly  by  nouveaux  riches  and 
parvenus  like  me,  ready  to  fall  down  and  worship 
Sevres  plates  and  silver  chafing-dishes.  Now  I 
enjoy  a  well-dressed  crowd  to  the  very  tips  of  my 
fingers,  —  men  with  no  shininess  about  the  seams 
or  bagginess  at  the  knees,  and  women  with  gowns 
you  may  venture  to  inspect  in  any  light  without  a 
painful  conviction  that  they  have  been  turned  inside 
out  or  upside  down.  There  is  nothing  blase  about 
me !  "When  I  go  out  to  dinner,  I  fairly  gloat  on 
the  idea  that  there  will  be  at  least  six  courses  and 
that  the  supply  of  forks  and  spoons  will  never  run 
out.  For  you  see,  Mr.  Hartley,  I  was  brought  up 
in  a  reduced  way.  We  had  traditions  of  our 
grandeur  4befo'  de  wah,'  but  who  can  live  on 
traditions  ?  We  had  a  few  bits  of  rare  china  and  of 
battered  silver,  to  be  sure,  but  only  just  enough  to 
show  me  the  solid  comfort  of  having  thirteen  sets 
of  dinner  plates  and  nine  silver  chafing-dishes." 

To  indicate  the  dropping  of  certain  syllables  and 
the  broadening  inflection  given  to  others,  would 
be  to  caricature  what  was  a  mere  suggestion  of  im 
perfect  speech,  seeming  partly  the  result  of  an  ad 
mixture  of  Southern  dialect,  and  partly  the  effect 
of  the  soft  impetuosity  of  the  speaker,  whose 
way  it  was  to  throw  herself  into  any  subject  which 
engaged  her  and  permit  it  to  run  away  with  her. 

"At  this   moment,"  she   went   on,  "I  am  the 


14        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

vainest  and  most  worldly  person  in  the  world.  I 
am  going  to  put  on  the  most  becoming  gown  you 
can  possibly  imagine  and  go  to  dine  at  the  "Wind 
sor." 

Hartley  tried  to  retain  command  of  his  features, 
lest  they  should  express  too  much  of  his  disappoint 
ment  and  chagrin.  He  rose  to  his  feet.  "  I  fear," 
he  exclaimed,  "  that  I  have  been  detaining  you." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Constance,  with  instant 
decision,  "  I  am  not  asked.  It  is  a  party  of 
Kathy's  Virginia  friends.  If  you  will  excuse  her, 
perhaps  she  had  better  go  and  dress,  and  you  can 
put  her  in  the  carriage  when  she  comes  down." 

Hartley  went  on  stammering  apologies.  He  had 
only  dropped  in  ;  twice  he  had  been  upon  the 
point  of  taking  leave ;  that  he  had  lingered  was  a 
tribute  to  Mrs.  Garner's  eloquence. 

"But  you  are  not  to  go,"  said  Constance. 
"  Kathy  is  such  a  monopolist  I  have  had  no  time 
to  ask  you  a  question  or  to  tell  you  our  plans. 
Now,  Kathy,  run  away  and  put  on  that  new  gown." 

Kathleen,  dropping,  as  she  stood  up,  her  gloves, 
handkerchief,  fan,  and  wraps,  shyly  held  out  her 
hand  to  Hartley,  murmuring  with  an  appealing 
glance,  "  You  will  forgive  me  this  once  ?  " 

He  stooped,  picked  up  her  belongings,  and  in  his 
easy,  pleasant  way,  crossed  the  room  at  her  side, 
carrying  them  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  where  he 
detained  her  a  moment,  saying,  while  he  looked  up 
into  her  face  as  she  stood  on  the  third  step :  — 


A  DISAPPOIN THEN T.  15 

"  All  the  same,  I  do  not  approve  of  your  going 
to  dine  at  the  Windsor  with  a  crowd  of  strange 

O 

people." 

"  Why  not  ? "  she  inquired,  with  an  abashed 
glance  as  if  conscious  of  committing  a  fault. 

"  Because  I  do  not  like  to  have  you  go  and  dine 
at  the  Windsor  with  strange  people,  and  I  think 
your  conscience,  if  you  have  any,  ought  to  tell  you 
why." 

"  They  are  very  old  friends,"  she  pleaded,  humbly. 
44  They  have  just  got  back  from  Europe,  they  —  " 

"  All  the  same  I  do  not  like  it.  It  spoils  my 
peace  of  mind.  Do  you  hear  ?  I  do  not  like  it ! 
I  do  not  like  it ! " 

He  held  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  looked  up 
into  her  eyes  with  a  bright,  laughing  glance,  and  in 
the  smile  that  lurked  about  his  lips  there  was  ten 
derness  and  good  humor. 

"  But  I  must  go,"  she  faltered ;  "  I  have 
promised." 

"  Then  go,"  he  said,  with  a  peculiar  soft  flash  of 
his  blue  eyes,  then  with  a  swift  movement  carried 
her  hand  to  his  lips  before  he  released  it.  "  Only," 
he  added  as  he  put  her  mantle  and  gloves  into  her 
extended  arms,  "  don't  dare  to  have  a  good  con 
science." 

And  after  gazing  at  her  as  she  slowly  ascended, 
turning  at  the  landing  to  give  him  a  last  look 
full  of  contrition,  he  went  back  to  the  drawing- 
room,  a  little  elated,  feeling  certain  that  in  spite 


16         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

of  his  disappointment  he  had  been  able  to  score 
a  point. 

"  Now  be  perfectly  candid,"  he  said  to  Constance. 
"  You  are  a  person  whose  least  word  is  law  to  me. 
If  you  wish  me  to  go  I  will  go.  If  I  may  stay 
half  an  hour  that  will  be  a  very  great  pleasure." 

For,  his  mind  still  revolving  upon  his  own  pro 
ject,  it  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps 
the  best  thing  for  him  to  do  might  be  to  take  the 
girl  into  his  confidence  and  ask  her  to  give  him  her 
aid  and  comfort  in  his  love  affair.  No  sooner  had 
this  idea  presented  itself  than  he  saw  in  it  every 
advantage.  Even  if  Constance  had  not  actively 
favored  his  suit  to  her  step-mother,  passively 
she  had  done  so  again  and  again.  He  was  certain 
that  he  could  at  least  count  upon  her  sympathy. 

"  I  asked  you  to  stay,"  she  said.  "  Sit  down. 
I  cannot  ask  you  to  dine  with  me,  because  I  do  not 
expect  to  have  any  dinner ;  but  at  eight  o'clock  I 
shall  have  a  modest  meal  of  some  description,  if 
you  care  to  share  it.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about 
our  plans,  for  having  at  last  crossed  the  Rubicon 
we  are  to  go  everywhere  and  do  everything.  We 
shall  send  out  our  cards  for  Tuesdays  in  December 
and  January,  and  then  in  a  quiet  way,  once  a 
fortnight,  we  shall  give  a  little  dinner." 

He  had  not  sat  down,  but  was  standing  before 
her,  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  high  chair.  Her  up 
turned  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  ;  she  was  smiling  ; 
there  was  nothing  in  her  words  or  in  her  look  to 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  17 

suggest  any  meaning  beyond  this  unimportant 
announcement,  yet  his  instinct  was  quick,  and  he 
divined  that  something  else  was  to  be  told  which 
concerned  himself. 

He  expressed  his  pleasure  at  hearing  that  their 
seclusion  was  over.  "  Although,"  he  went  on,  bend 
ing  towards  her,  "  I  half  begrudge  other  people  the 
chance  of  coming  and  going  here.  This  friend 
ship  has  counted  for  a  great  deal  in  my  life,  and  I 
should  be  jealous  of  being  entirely  superseded." 

"  It  has  been  very  pleasant  to  us  to  have  you 
come,"  said  Constance.  She  sighed.  "  I  feel  as 
if  no  other  life  were  possible  except  that  we  have 
been  living  here.  This  house  seems  part  of  my 
self.  It  is  something  to  shudder  at,  I  think,  that 
by  this  time  next  year  Kathy  and  I  must  have 
given  it  all  up." 

Hartley  looked  at  her,  startled.  "I  do  not  quite 
understand,"  he  murmured.  "  The  house  is  yours, 
is  it  not?" 

"  My  grandfather  gave  it  to  my  mother  and  her 
children,"  Constance  replied.  "Papa  had  only 
a  life  interest  in  it.  It  belongs  to  my  two  sisters 
and  to  my  two  brothers  besides  myself.  Consider 
ing  that  they  are  none  of  them  rich  people,  they 
have  been  very  generous  in  permitting  Kathy  and 
me  to  go  on  in  just  the  old  way.  At  first,  after 
papa's  death,  when  it  was  decided  that  we  should 
keep  it  for  five  years,  it  seemed  a  whole  lifetime. 
We  look  at  each  other  now  and  wonder  where  it 


18         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

has  vanished.  Xlie  reason  why  we  are  launching 
into  gayeties  is  that  we  feel  it  important  to  make 
the  most  of  our  little  day  of  sunshine." 

Hartley's  surprise  was  so  naive  that  he  could 
hardly  manage  the  simplest  phrase  of  sympathy  or 
common  interest.  He  had  always  taken  it  for 
granted  that  the  Garners  were  solidly  rich  people. 
Could  it  be  -  No,  it  was  impossible  that  he 
should  have  made  such  a  mistake.  His  mind  was 
so  busy  in  sifting  the  probabilities  of  the  situation 
that  he  forgot  to  speak. 

"  I  have  a  little  money,"  Constance  now  said. 
"  and  if  the  house  is  sold  I  shall  have  a  little  more. 
But  Kathy,  poor,  dear,  beautiful  Kathy,  is  cruelly 
placed." 

Their  eyes  met.  "  Do  you  mean  -  "  he  faltered 
out,  but  his  lips  refused  to  form  another  word. 
His  throat  and  mouth  were  dry  as  parchment. 

"That  is  what  I  mean,"  Constance  said  with 
extreme  gentleness,  and  he  knew  that  his  disappoint 
ment,  his  chagrin,  his  whole  shock  of  feeling  were 
an  open  page  to  her.  "  I  feel  sometimes  that  I  am 
in  fault  for  having  tried  to  keep  up  the  fiction  of 
our  being  well  off.  But  loving  papa  as  I  did,  hon 
oring  his  memory  as  I  wish  to  do,  can  you  wonder 
that  I  have  tried  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  left 
his  young  wife  wholly  unprovided  for?  He  had 
made  a  good  income,  but  we  had  lived  expensively, 
and  he  had  provided  generously  for  my  brothers 
and  sisters.  You  see,  Mr.  Hartley,  he  was  as 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  19 

sure  of  his  life  as  if  he  had  been  a  very  young  man. 
More  than  once  he  had  said  to  me,  4 1  have  done 
well  by  the  others ;  now  I  must  begin  to  save 
for  you  and  Kathy.'  Then  in  a  moment  it  was  all 
over." 

Hartley  himself,  experiencing  the  awful  sudden 
ness  of  the  wreck  of  mortal  hopes,  contrived  to 
mutter,  "  I  remember  how  unexpected  it  was."  It 
seemed  to  him  as  if  a  knot  was  tied  in  his  throat. 
He  could  have  wept  in  indignation,  in  self-pity,  in 
his  sense  of  utter  humiliation  before  this  proud, 
sensitive  girl. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on,  "  whatever  I  have, 
Kathy  has.  She  will  not  suffer.  She  has  indeed 
no  clear  idea  that  she  is  so  poor.  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  not  have  her  saddened  and  perplexed  by  the 
actual  truth  of  things.  It  takes  very  little  to 
make  her  happy, —  it  also  takes  very  little  to  make 
her  unhappy." 

"  How  good  you  are  to  her ! "  Hartley  mur 
mured. 

"It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  be  good 
enough  to  her,"  said  Constance,  all  aglow  and 
with  a  soft  vehemence  of  manner.  "  If  only  I  had 
something  to  give  up  to  her  !  The  others  cannot 
feel  as  I  do.  They  were  older,  and  were  inclined 
to  be  a  little  skeptical  and  ironical  about  papa's 
marrying  a  wife  thirty  years  younger  than  him 
self." 

The  situation,  which  had  at  first  left  Hartley's 


20         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

perceptions  hazy,  confused,  inert,  began  to  clear. 
Up  to  this  moment  he  had  thought  only  of  him 
self  ;  it  now  occurred  to  him  that  he  ought  to  ex 
press  some  sympathy  for  Kathy  as  well. 

"  It  seems  hard  for  Mrs.  Garner,"  he  remarked, 
with  an  effort  to  detach  himself  from  any  personal 
point  of  view  and  assume  his  usual  ease  of  manner. 
"  Destiny  will  soon  set  things  right  for  her  again, 
however.  She  is  certain  to  marry  again." 

Constance's  head  drooped. 

"  That  is  what  my  brothers  say,"  she  returned, 
speaking  for  once  in  an  almost  indistinguishable 
voice,  "  and  I  —  I  hope  she  may  marry  some  good 
man,  —  some  disinterested  man." 

The  clock  in  the  hall  struck  the  half  hour. 
Hartley  straightened  himself.  "  I  wish,"  he  said 
in  an  odd  voice,  "  that  I  were  a  disinterested  man. 
I  should  like  to  experience  the  emancipation  of 
mind,  heart  and  soul  a  million  of  dollars  would 
give  me.  If  I  were  a  rich  man  I  could  be  a  disin 
terested  man  instead  of  the  sordid  wretch  I  am." 

The  glow  and  lire  of  her  face  startled  him  as  she 
raised  her  eyes. 

" 1  hope,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  not  misunder 
stood  me." 

"  No,  I  have  not  misunderstood  you."  He  went 
up  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  Thank  you 
for  telling  me  this,"  he  murmured,  with  at  least 
an  affectation  of  frank  emotion.  "  You  are  a 
brave  girl." 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  21 

"  Kathy  has  no  one  else  to  look  after  her,"  she 
answered.  "  Sometimes  I  am  horribly  anxious 
about  her  future." 

"  I  see,"  he  said.  He  looked  down  at  the  proud 
childlike  face,  beautiful  in  its  courage  and  its  self- 
control.  After  all,  it  was  this  girl  with  whom  he 
was  actually  in  love,  he  said  to  himself,  only  he  had 
always  experienced  a  sense  of  being  unable  to  meet 
her  demands  upon  him,  —  he  was  inadequate  ;  his 
best  performances  fell  below  her  mark.  With  her, 
life  was  something  serious,  passionate,  sincere.  He 
was  struck  anew  by  the  modest,  truthful  charm  of 
the  face,  of  the  youthful  stateliness  with  which  she 
rose. 

"  Shall  I  ever  come  again  ?  "  he  asked  humbly. 

"  Of  course  come,"  she  said  with  some  imperi- 
ousness.  "  We  are  good  friends,  always  good 
friends." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  ardently,  as  if  intensely 
grateful.  "  Good-night."  He  was  leaving  the 
room ;  then  at  the  door  he  turned  back,  and  added, 
"  I  hope  Mrs.  Garner  will  enjoy  her  dinner." 

He  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  hall  to  pick  up 
his  light  overcoat,  fling  it  across  his  arm,  and  in  an 
other  moment  experienced  the  relief  of  the  outside 
coolness  and  darkness. 

His  whole  wish  had  been  to  get  away.  He  was 
miserably  conscious,  not  only  that  his  speech  and 
action  had  been  mechanical,  but  that  whatever 
passion,  love,  pity,  tenderness,  hope,  courage,  even 


22         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

common  charity,  had  ever  seemed  to  have  existence 
in  his  relations  with  Kathleen  Garner,  had  failed 
in  this  crisis.  Not  enough  emotion  of  any  sort 
was  left  to  give  the  requisite  impulse  for  a  manly 
and  helpful  word.  What  he  had  experienced  was 
a  startled  sense  of  escape,  such  as  a  man  might 
feel  when,  just  as  he  is  about  to  cross  a  bridge,  he 
discovers  that  the  arch  is  broken,  and  steps  back, 
miraculously,  saved  from  a  descent  into  the  abyss 
beneath.  In  this  case  the  bridge  was  marriage, 
the  abyss,  poverty.  Hartley  had  taken  it  for 
granted  that  Mrs.  Garner  was  a  widow  with  a 
splendid  jointure,  and  the  illogical  and  absurd  mis 
take  would  have  moved  him  to  laughter  had  not 
the  tragical  side  of  his  disappointment  been  at 
present  uppermost  in  his  mind.  Personal  emotions, 
heartbreak,  he  was  not  conscious  of.  An  hour  ago, 
when  he  had  kissed  her  hand,  he  had  believed 
himself  to  be  head  and  ears  in  love  with  Kathy, 
with  her  charming  blushes,  her  reckless  audacities, 
her  invincible  timidities.  At  this  moment,  what 
she  represented  to  his  mind  was  a  vexatious  mis 
calculation  and  loss  of  time ;  the  thought  of  her 
was  hardly  more  than  one  of  his  long  list  of  finan 
cial  disasters,  and,  just  as  after  losing  heavily  in 
some  speculation  he  had  built  hopes  upon,  he  would 
experience  for  months  afterwards  a  pang  of  self- 
disgust  at  the  sight  of  the  name  of  the  enterprise, 
so  at  this  moment  he  hated  the  idea  of  this  futile 
romance. 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT.  23 

Evidently  he  had  not  been  in  love.  "  I  sup 
pose,"  he  exclaimed  audibly,  as  he  hurried  on,  "  I 
am  incapable  of  being  in  love."  And  this  conviction 
brought  with  it  palpable  relief,  since  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  futility  and  failure  his  mistake  was  not 
a  supreme  mistake.  It  was  just  another  of  the  same 
kind  that  had  always  been  happening.  He  could 
at  times  pose,  even  to  himself,  as  a  cleverer  man, 
a  more  successful  man,  than  he  actually  was,  and  it 
was  his  habit  to  reflect  as  little  as  possible  upon  the 
actual  details  of  his  experience.  At  this  moment, 
however,  each  separate  event  of  his  career  seemed 
to  thrust  itself  forward, —  each  one  of  a  series  of 
just  such  unhappy  guesses  as  this  had  proved; 
a  sequence  of  false  auguries,  unsuccessful  issues, 
faulty  tinkerings,  abortive  experiments  ;  each  push 
ing  one  another  out  of  sight,  substituting  a  fresh 
scheme  for  the  one  just  doomed  ;  each  destined  to 
shift  through  the  same  phases  of  hope,  test  and 
failure,  and  share  the  same  disastrous  fate.  And 
at  this  moment  he  distinctly  realized  that  in  all 
these  unhappy  enterprises  there  had  been,  invari 
ably,  the  same  spur,  —  the  wish  somehow  to  get 
hold  of  money  without  giving  money's  worth. 

It  is  always  the  supreme  test  of  a  man's  philoso 
phy  whether  he  has  the  magnanimity  to  take  up 
with  what  he  can  get,  instead  of  pauperizing  his 
life  by  aiming  after  the  unattainable.  The  recollec 
tion  suddenly  flashed  across  Hartley's  mind  that  his 
partner,  Joseph  Roylance,  had  yesterday  told  him 


24         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

of  his  brother's  having  a  new  client,  a  very  rich 
woman,  a  stranger  in  New  York,  to  whom  it  might 
be  worth  a  young  fellow's  while  to  pay  some  little 
attention.  The  suggestion  was  timely,  and  piqued 
him  into  a  wish  to  go  on  living.  Life,  after  all, 
might  prove  to  be  a  manageable  affair.  He  began 
to  see  something  beyond  the  blank  wall  against 
which  he  had  been  dashing  aimlessly,  and  resumed 
gradually  his  usual  buoyant  sense  of  being  a  man 
of  the  world  and  master  of  his  fate.  Between  his 
state  of  mind  two  hours  before,  when  he  had  looked 
forward  to  engaging  himself  to  Kathleen  Garner, 
and  his  present  detached  condition,  there  was  a 
gap  to  shudder  over.  But  he  had  managed,  —  not, 
it  is  true,  very  gracefully,  —  to  jump  it,  and  was 
now  on  the  safe  side.  A  new  life  stretched  out  be 
fore  him  with  new  cravings  and  new  resolutions, 
and  its  first  necessity  was  that  he  should  dine.  He 
felt  that  he  had  been  ill-treated,  —  had  passed 
through  a  hard  ordeal  and  deserved  compensation. 
Thus  he  determined  not  only  to  dine  but  to  dine 
well.  As  Richard  said  :  — 

"  Since  I  am  crept  in  favour  with  myself, 
I  will  maintain  it  with  some  little  cost." 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW  IT   STRIKES   A   CONTEMPORARY. 

As  Hartley  entered  his  favorite  cafe  he  found 
himself  following  a  man  whose  figure  and  turn  of 
the  head  struck  him  as  familiar. 

"  Is  that  you,  Garthe  ?  "  he  said,  leaning  forward 
and  putting  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  other, 
who  had  paused  and  stood  looking  about  at  the 
tables  full  of  guests,  the  waiters  in  immaculate 
array,  with  napkins  over  their  arms  and  order-cards 
in  hand,  hurrying  hither  and  thither  ;  at  the  lights, 
the  glitter  of  glass,  silver  and  china,  against  a  back 
ground  of  palms,  rubber  plants  and  chrysanthe 
mums.  It  was  Lawrence  Garthe,  and  he  turned 
and  shook  hands  with  Hartley,  who  was  his  cousin 
in  some  remote  degree. 

"  Have  you  dined?"  he  inquired,  and  at  Hart 
ley's  shake  of  the  head  exclaimed  with  an  air  of 
relief,  "  Dine  with  me  ;  I  was  horribly  bored  at  the 
idea  of  sitting  down  alone." 

Hartley,  who  had  been  bowing  right  and  left  to 
acquaintances  who  nodded  to  him  from  the  groups 
on  every  hand,  accepted  the  invitation,  held  up  his 
hand  with  a  gesture  which  brought  the  head  waiter 
almost  on  the  run,  and  in  another  moment  they  were 


26         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

established  at  a  table  in  a  quiet  corner,  from  which 
a  party  had  just  risen.  The  luxury  and  splendor 
of  the  place,  the  easy  effectiveness  of  his  own  good 
management  in  securing  attention  on  the  instant, 
reinstated  him  in  his  own  esteem  and  put  him  in 
good  humor.  He  was  glad  to  have  Lawrence 
Garthe,  for  once,  see  him  in  his  own  element :  the 
object  of  general  consideration,  the  recipient  of 
glances,  smiles,  nods  and  waves  of  the  hand  from 
these  rich  and  fashionable  people. 

"  You  are  evidently  at  home  here,  Ferdinand," 
said  Garthe.  "  Just  order  what  you  like,  will  you 
not  ?  I  so  rarely  dine  out  I  prefer  to  dine  well, 
but  I  hate  thinking  about  it.  I  give  you  carte 
Uanche" 

Hartley's  face  glowed  with  satisfaction.  He 
not  only  enjoyed  a  good  dinner,  but  he  enjoyed  the 
ordering  of  it,  particularly  when  another  man  was 
to  pay  the  bill.  Perhaps  we  seem  to  put  Hartley 
in  an  ugly  light,  but  his  present  sordidness  was  the 
result  of  circumstances,  and  actually  he  was  no 
more  mercenary  than  the  generality  of  people.  He 
possessed  plenty  of  noble  instincts,  but  they  were 
blunted  by  a  most  unhappy  practice  of  being  ham 
pered  by  debts.  Five  years  before,  he  had  put 
what  small  capital  he  possessed  into  a  brokerage 
business,  in  which  ever  since  he  had  been  kept  like 
a  young  hound  in  a  leash  by  his  partner,  Joseph 
Roylauce,  who,  warily  watching  the  signs  of  the 
times,  imposed  his  strong  will  upon  his  junior,  deter- 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A  CONTEMPORARY.       27 

mined  to  risk  and  lose  nothing  until  they  had  lived 
through  the  present  dangerous  financial  epoch, 
Hartley  was  always  lamenting  that  he  had  arrived 
upon  the  stage  of  affairs  just  too  late.  During  the 
decade  of  the  Civil  War,  nothing  could  be  easier 
than  for  any  and  every  man  to  make  a  fortune. 
Now-a-days  great  fortunes  were  made,  but  not  by 
any  and  every  man.  It  was  mere  nonsense  for  Roy- 
lance  to  talk  of  incessant  industry,  watchfulness  and 
perseverance ;  such  old-fashioned  methods  of  get 
ting  rich  were  useless  lumber.  Now-a-days  money 
was  not  laid  up  by  painstaking  accumulation,  but 
was  won  by  some  grand  coup,  by  establishing  a 
monopoly,  by  rigging  and  cornering  the  markets, 
by  audacity,  tactics  and  brutal  force.  It  was  hard 
for  a  man  with  the  true  conjuring  word  for  con 
quering  the  world  to  be  compelled  to  wait  in  the 
tadpole  stage  of  existence  until  he  was  thirty.  By 
strange  accidents  Hartley  had  been  repressed  and 
thwarted  in  every  effort  towards  development.  He 
was  liked  by  every  one  :  by  men,  for  his  easy  habit  of 
accepting  whatever  came  in  his  way  without  impos 
ing  his  own  standards  upon  others ;  by  women,  for 
his  good  looks  and  his  gift  of  being  to  each  what 
she  wished  him  to  be.  Twice  he  had  offered  mar 
riage  to  rich  girls  and  had  been  refused.  In  one 
case  the  object  of  his  pursuit  was  already  promised  ; 
the  other,  who  was  plain  but  clever,  derided  him,  told 
him  that  he  was  not  in  love, —  that  he  was  not  even  a 
good  pretender :  that  if  a  man  had  nothing  to  offer 


28         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

a  woman  in  the  way  of  money  and  position  he  ought, 
at  least,  to  seem  to  have  a  heart.  The  fact  was, 
Hartley's  wish  to  be  rich  overmastered  all  other 
passions  in  his  nature.  He  had  no  vices,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  at  those  of  other  men,  de 
claring  that  they  did  not  pay.  His  determination 
to  get  out  of  existence  what  he  craved  had  devel 
oped  in  him  an  eager  head  and  a  cool  heart. 
His  whole  habit  of  life,  his  anxious  problems,  his 
crying  necessities,  —  as  we  have  seen,  his  very  love 
affairs,  —  hinged  on  his  imperative  desire  for  riches. 
Yet  although  he  experienced  the  ignominy  of  often 
being  without  the  ready  money  in  his  pocket  to 
answer  just  demands,  he  was  yet  quite  ready  to 
look  down  on  Lawrence  Garthe  for  having  plenty 
of  money  in  his  pocket  which  he  seemed  to  have 
no  idea  of  spending  in  a  way  to  get  comfort  out  of 
existence. 

The  two  kinsmen  were  of  the  same  age,  had 
been  occasional  playfellows  as  boys,  and  students  at 
Yale  at  the  same  time,  Hartley  in  the  academic 
and  Garthe  in  the  scientific  department.  It  was 
at  college  that  Hartley  had  found  out  the  com 
fort  of  having  a  cousin  whose  quiet  habits  per 
mitted  him  to  keep  a  full  purse.  Garthe  was 
absorbed  in  his  pursuits  ;  born  as  he  had  been  with 
a  love  of  getting  at  the  truth  of  things,  he  cared 
nothing  for  cheap  and  facile  college  dissipations. 
What  he  liked  and  courted  was  stress  of  per 
sistence  in  hard  work,  intellectual  stimulus,  the 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.       29 

joyous  fever  of  invention  and  discovery,  travel, 
pursuit,  adventure.  As  soon  as  he  had  graduated 
he  was  offered  a  lucrative  post  in  Colorado  as 
assayist  and  mining  chemist.  Shortly  afterwards 
came  the  announcement  of  his  marriage,  and  then 
Hartley  had  heard  no  more  of  him  for  five  years, 
when  he  was  told  that  Garthe  had  settled  down  in 
Berlin,  after  two  years'  prospecting  in  the  Ural 
mountains ;  that  he  had  lost  his  wife,  who  had  left 
a  little  son  to  whom  he  was  devoted.  Finally,  six 
months  before  the  opening  of  our  story,  Garthe 
and  Hartley  had  encountered  in  New  York,  where 
Garthe  was  staying  for  a  time,  uncertain  of  his 
plans.  He  was  bringing  out  a  book,  and  was 
ready  to  accept  any  position  which  offered.  He 
now  told  Hartley  he  was  filling  a  place  tempo 
rarily  as  lecturer  in  mineralogy  and  demonstra 
tor  in  laboratory  work  in  two  institutions  near  the 
city. 

In  a  way,  the  two  men  had  absolutely  nothing  in 
common,  but  their  long  habit  of  intimacy  had 
given  them  a  basis  of  affection,  and  to-night,  when 
by  chance  each  was  experiencing  some  particular 
need  of  feeling  himself  in  touch  with  another 
human  being,  they  were  inclined  to  be  more  than 
usually  cordial  and  expansive.  Garthe's  whole 
manner,  nevertheless,  suggested  a  deep-seated 
reserve  not  easily  penetrated.  In  appearance  he 
was  not,  like  Hartley,  a  man  whose  striking  good 
looks  instantly  took  the  eye.  He  was,  however, 


30        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

of  fair  height,  with  a  lithe  figure,  and  his  face  was 
at  once  powerful  and  refined.  His  forehead  and 
temples  seemed  full  of  concentrated  energy  and 
purpose ;  his  eyes  were  dark  and  peculiar]'-  ex 
pressive  ;  his  mouth  straight,  well  cut,  w  a 
curve  suggesting  plenty  of  will ;  his  smile  ins  ^mt 
and  dazzling,  although  he  did  not  waste  it  on 
every  occasion.  Everything  about  him,  in  fact, 
indicated  equipoise,  a  reserve  of  force  which  he 
was  not  ready  to  expend  upon  the  first  object  that 
offered. 

Hartley,  as  we  have  said,  instantly  in  high  spirits, 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  and  wrote 
out  an  elaborate  menu,  which  he  flourished  before 
his  cousin's  face  as  a  challenge. 

"  I  '11  stand  the  expense  for  once,"  said  Garthe. 
"  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  pay  handsomely  for  a 
companion.  Until  I  saw  you  I  experienced  a  freez 
ing  sense  of  isolation." 

"  Think  of  it !  It  is  pitiful,  near  a  whole  city 
full ! " 

44  The  whole  city  full  was  nothing  to  me.  1 
could  think  of  nothing  but  a  certain  street,  a 
certain  house,  a  certain  room,  and  a  certain  little 
chap  who  was  eating  his  own  heart  in  longing  for 
me  as  I  for  him.  He  was  a  naughty  little  chap 
this  morning,  and  to  punish  him  I  told  him  I 
should  not  go  home  to  dinner  to-night." 

"  You  punished  yourself  most,  no  doubt." 

"  One  always  does.     It  has  lain    like   lead   oil 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.        31 

my  heart  all  day  that  he  would  be  fretting  over 
it." 

Hartley  laughed,  but  not  without  sympathy. 

"  Tr  tdare  say  I  may  have  a  talent  for  the  domes 
tic  '.e  observed,  "  only  I  have  had  no  chance  to 
de,SjiOp  it." 

"  How  do  you  manage  ?    Do  you  live  alone  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  Edna  is  married,  has  four  children, 
and  is  wrapped  up  in  her  husband.  I  have  nobody 
else  belonging  to  me.  I  sleep  and  take  my  break 
fast  at  -  -  East  Twentieth  Street.  At  a  quarter 
to  nine  I  go  down  town  and  I  lunch  there.  Four 
times  out  of  the  week,  for  six  months  in  the  year, 
I  dine  out,  —  and  for  at  least  three  months  I  have 
a  bewildering  choice  of  invitations,  and  sometimes 
might  eat  half  a  dozen  dinners  a  night.  I  have 
been  best  man  at  a  wedding  to-day,  and  was  asked 
to  stay  afterwards  for  a  '  high  tea '  and  later  to  go 
to  the  opera  with  all  the  family  party ;  but  I 
declined,  out  of  a  foolish  freak  which  has  ended  in 
a  fiasco.  In  fact,  Lawrence,  until  I  met  you  I  was 
in  the  very  devil  of  a  humor." 

"It  takes  a  little  time  to  find  out  that  the 
universe  was  not  created  solely  to  answer  one's 
needs.  I  myself  have  been  in  a  rage  at  the 
blunders  on  the  part  of  Providence." 

"  I  did  n't  shirk  the  responsibility,"  said  Hartley. 
"  I  have  been  walking  the  streets,  calling  myself 
ninny,  blockhead,  a  light-headed  superficial  idiot 
who  mistakes  all  that  glitters  for  gold.  However, 


32         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

I  have  been  in  despair  before  and  have  got  over  it,  - 
and  I  dare  say  by  the  time  we  finish  dinner  I  shall 
have  begun  to  feel  that  my  blunder  was  reasonable 
and  that  I  am  not  altogether  the  fool  I  seem." 

Garthe  listened  as  if  weighing  the  worth  of  the 
confession. 

"  There  are  blunders  and  blunders,"  he  observed. 
"  The  important  thing  is  not  to  make  the  irrepa 
rable  blunder." 

"  A  man  does  n't  do  that  until  he  makes  a 
foolish  marriage,"  said  Hartley.  He  was  seasoning 
his  oysters  with  great  nicety,  and  did  not  observe 
that  Garthe's  lips  were  suddenly  compressed  and 
that  a  little  frown  appeared  between  his  eyebrows. 
"  In  this  particular  instance,"  Hartley  went  on 
with  a  half  laugh,  "  I  enjoy  the  unique  consolation 
that,  having  been  warned  in  time,  I  was  able  to 
sneak  out  of  a  false  position.  When  I  get  over 
the  unpleasant  sensation  of  being  a  whipped  cur  I 
shall  be  glad  it  all  happened  as  it  did." 

Garthe,  perhaps  not  wholly  liking  the  sound  of 
this  confession,  gave  his  cousin  a  penetrating  glance, 
as  if  wondering  what  lay  behind  the  barriers  of 
that  attractive  personality. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  silence, 
"a  man  knows  himself  and  his  own  mistakes,  but 
he  can't  know  another  man's." 

Having  said  so  much  Hartley  changed  his  tack, 
and,  throwing  regrets  to  the  winds,  aimed  at  no 
thing  but  making  himself  an  agreeable  companion. 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY,        33 

Recovering  his  usual  easy  confidence  in  his  own 
powers,  he  tried  to  make  Gar  the  conceive  some 
thing  of  the  vivid  and  varied  existence  he  had  led ; 
he  epitomized  his  social  experience,  described 
notable  people,  gave  a  hint  of  certain  phases  of 
inside  politics.  Garthe  listened,  asking  now  and 
then  with  a  certain  deliberateness  an  incisive 
question  which  showed  that  his  attention  was  held. 
He  was  at  any  rate  glad  that  his  companion's 
depression  and  misgiving  had  passed  into  exhilara 
tion  ;  that  he  had  eaten  his  dinner  with  a  good 
appetite,  which  seemed  to  show  a  healthy  reaction 
from  his  bitter  mood.  When  they  rose  from 
table  it  was  after  nine.  If  it  were  too  late  for  a 
play,  Hartley  suggested,  something  interesting 
might  be  found  at  the  variety  theatres.  But 
Garthe  said,  No,  he  must  go  home. 

"  Come  with  me  and  see  how  I  am  settled,"  he 
added,  and  Hartley  accepted. 

The  house  was  situated  in  a  quiet  street  far  up 
town,  and  stood  almost  in  the  centre  of  a  long 
block  of  yellow  brick  dwellings  faced  with  Port 
land  stone,  each  exactly  like  its  neighbor.  Hartley 
observed  that  even  Garthe  was  obliged  to  take  his 
bearings  and  to  glance  at  the  number  before  he 
could  be  certain  which  was  his  own  domicile  ;  and, 
piquing  himself,  as  he  did  invariably,  on  possessing 
every  attribute,  good  taste  included,  in  a  higher 
degree  than  his  fellow-men,  he  said  mentally  that 
when  he  chose  a  house  he  should  insist  on  its  having 


34        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

a  physiognomy  of  its  own.  Once  across  the 
threshold,  however,  any  sense  of  stupid  conformity 
vanished,  and  he  looked  about  with  satisfaction.  A 
rich  carpet  of  a  dull  red  color  covered  the  floor  of  all 
the  rooms ;  the  long,  rather  narrow  parlor  into  which 
Garthe  ushered  him  was  lined  with  low  cabinets 
and  book-cases,  their  tops  crowded  with  a  jumble  of 
china,  Oriental  brasses,  and  Greek  figurines ; 
while  above  on  the  red  walls  were  hung  pictures, 
chiefly  etchings  of  old  cities  and  famous  buildings, 
and  of  landscapes  after  the  paintings  of  Daubigny, 
Dupre,  and  Kousseau.  Half  way  down  the  room 
was  a  huge  writing-table,  and  everywhere,  on  desks, 
chairs,  sofas,  even  on  the  rug,  were  piles  of  books. 
Before  the  fire,  beside  a  comfortable  chair,  stood  a 
small  table  with  a  shaded  lamp  for  reading. 

Garthe  had  said,  on  entering,  "  Look  about  you 
for  a  minute,  Ferdinand,  while  I  run  up  and  see 
after  the  boy."  He  had  let  himself  in  with  his 
latch-key,  and  the  house  seemed  empty. 

44  Certainly,  he  has  made  himself  comfortable," 
Hartley  observed  to  himself  as  he  looked  about  him. 
44  He  has  made  himself  very  comfortable." 

He  experienced  anew  a  swelling  of  desire  after 
his  own  share  of  the  good  things  of  the  world.  It 
seemed  to  him  almost  tragic  that  his  individual  pos 
sessions  were  so  inadequate  to  his  wishes.  He  did 
not  feel  covetousness  or  envy  of  what  was  another 
man's,  —  indeed,  Garthe's  prosperity  was  of  too 
modest  a  description,  too  little  aggressive,  to  stir 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.        36 

jealousy.  Rather  what  Hartley  experienced  was  a 
desire  to  have  a  chance  to  get  hold  of  himself,  —  to 
be  himself ;  to  express  the  tastes,  cravings,  affec 
tions,  which  were  his  very  own.  It  was  clear  to  him 
that  Garthe  had  not  bought  those  things  and  strewn 
them  over  the  room  to  furnish  it,  but  because  each 
article  was  part  of  the  equipment  of  his  daily  life ; 
the  books  were  for  reading  and  study ;  the  curios 
to  illustrate  something  he  had  seen  and  done  ;  the 
specimens  of  ore  in  the  cabinets  what  he  had  dis 
covered  and  tested ;  the  desk  was  the  place  where  he 
wrote  ;  the  chairs  were  to  give  him  rest  and  ease  ;  the 
fire  was  to  warm  him,  and  the  lamp  to  light  him. 
All  was  Garthe 's.  It  was  his  own  little  world. 
Hartley  felt  like  an  outcast  in  comparison.  "  By 
Jove,  it  is  enough  to  make  one  turn  socialist,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

At  this  moment  a  voice  called. 
"  I  say,  Ferdy,  do  you  mind  stepping  up  here  ?  " 
Hartley  bounded  up  the  stairs.  "  Are  you  good 
for  another  flight  ?  "  Garthe  inquired,  meeting  him 
on  the  landing.  "  Larry  sleeps  on  the  third  floor 
that  Amelia  may  be  near  him."  They  ascended 
together.  "  I  told  you,"  Garthe  went  on  with  a  half 
laugh,  "  that  I  was  hard  on  my  little  chap  this 
morning.  He  was  disobedient,  and  I  don't  like  him 
to  be  disobedient ;  and  although  it  was  a  small  mat 
ter,  he  lied  to  me.  He  owned  up.  I  could  n't  have 
the  heart  to  whip  him,  but  I  told  him  I  could  not 
come  home  and  dine  with  such  a  bad  boy.  Amelia 


36        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

says  he  was  restless  and  unhappy  all  day,  watched 
for  me  and  made  himself  sick  with  crying  when  I 
did  not  come."  lie  led  the  way  into  the  front  bed 
room,  where  the  light  was  turned  low  and  shaded. 
In  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  little  brass  bed 
with  a  canopy,  and  there  lay  the  boy  asleep,  with  a 
white  Angora  cat  curled  up  on  one  side  and  on  the 
other  a  Skye  terrier,  who  winked  a  sleepy  eye  and 
wagged  his  tail.  Ranged  round  the  bed,  the  pil 
lows,  the  tables,  and  chairs,  were  troops  of  tin  sol 
diers,  mechanical  toys,  a  cow  with  a  bell,  a  wooden 
horse  with  three  legs,  and  a  small  music  box. 

"  He  gathered  all  his  possessions  to  comfort 
him,"  said  Garthe.  "  Poor  little  Larry,  1  was  hard 
on  him." 

I  lartley  leaned  over  the  sleeper,  a  fine  well-grown 
child  with  curly  brown  hair,  a  flushed  handsome 
face,  full  at  the  forehead  and  temples  and  narrowing 
below. 

"  See  the  dried  tears  on  his  cheek,"  said  Garthe. 

He  stooped  •  and  kissed  these  evidences  of  tears, 
sighing  as  he  did  so. 

"He  is  a  beautiful  little  fellow,"  Hartley  said 
warmly. 

tfc  Well-made,  well-knit.  Look  at  his  arm  !  just 
feel  his  calves !  "  and  Garthe  uncovered  the  body 
and  held  up  a  sturdy  little  leg.  "  He  is  never  tired, 
never  out  of  spirits,  —  at  least  when  he  can  be  near 
me."  Garthe  sighed  again.  u  His  high  spirits  show 
me  the  need  of  making  him  surrender  his  will." 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.       37 

"  Does  he  look  like  his  mother  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.     He  is  like  me." 

"  I  confess  I  don't  see  the  resemblance.  Have 
you  her  portrait?" 

"No,"  said  Garthe  in  a  tone  which  warned 
Hartley  he  might  be  stirring  painful  sensibilities. 
Curious,  nevertheless,  to  elicit  something  about  the 
child's  mother,  lie  went  on. 

"  I  knew  she  died  early.  I  never  happened  to 
hear  just  how  long  your  married  life  lasted." 

"  Just  over  three  years,"  said  Garthe. 

"  You  lost  her  before  you  pulled  up  stakes  and 
went  to  Europe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Larry  was  a  mere  baby  of  fifteen  months 
or  so." 

"  Pretty  rough  on  the  poor  little  motherless  fel 
low,  to  say  nothing  of  what  it  must  have  been  to 
you." 

Garthe  stooped  and  put  his  cheek  against  the 
boy's. 

"  I  wish  he  would  wake  up,"  he  said.  "  I  hate  to 
think  he  may  dream  I  have  n't  come  back." 

He  lifted  the  light  form  out  of  the  bed  and 
pressed  it  passionately  against  his  breast.  The 
closed  senses  of  the  little  sleeper  unlocked  suffi 
ciently  to  make  him  respond  to  the  caress ;  an  ex 
pression,  roguish,  keen,  and  sweet,  came  into  his 
face  ;  his  eyes  half  unclosed ;  he  murmured  a  few 
inaudible  words.  Still  he  did  not  wholly  wake. 
Garthe  laid  him  back  on  the  pillow,  covered  him  up 


38        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

carefully,  called  the  Skye  and  the  Angora,  and  led 
the  way  downstairs. 

"This  is  his  playroom,"  he  remarked  as  they 
stopped  after  descending  the  first  flight.  "  Here  is 
my  bedroom,  just  behind." 

Everywhere  there  were  signs  of  order  and  plea 
santness  :  an  air  of  readiness  for  the  master. 

"  I  like  your  house,"  said  Hartley.  "  It  seems 
made  to  live  in." 

"Yes,  just  big  enough  for  me.  The  street  is 
quiet,  and  outside  I  am  so  exactly  like  everybody 
else  nobody  would  suspect  me  of  having  an  identity 
of  my  own."  They  had  now  reached  the  first  floor. 
"This  is  the  dining-room,  and  in  the  yard  I  have 
built  a  small  laboratory.  Larry  and  I  are  as  com 
fortable  as  two  peas  in  a  pod." 

"  They  say  a  man  has  no  right  to  be  comf ortable 
without  a  wife  to  look  after  him." 

"  A  woman  has  no  idea  of  home  comfort,"  Garthe 
observed  with  cool  disdain.  "  A  house  to  her  is  a 
prison.  She  is  always  pining  to  be  outside  of  it/' 

Hartley  stared.  "  Are  n't  you  a  little  hard  on 
the  gentler  sex  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

Garthe  did  not  illustrate  his  statement  or  enlarge 
on  it. 

"  I  have  an  Englishman,  by  the  name  of  Button, 
and  his  wife,  to  look  after  the  house  and  take  care 
of  the  boy,"  he  went  on.  "  Button  has  some  janitor 
work  outside  and  does  a  few  odd  jobs,  but  is  on 
hand  most  of  the  time.  He  and  Amelia  lost  a  bo}% 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.       39 

and  perhaps  that  helps  to  make  them  fond  of 
Larry.  Besides,  they  are  well  off  here.  Amelia 
is  a  reasonably  good  cook,  and  has  the  sense  to 
keep  out  of  the  way  when  I  don't  want  her  and 
within  reach  when  I  do." 

"You  are  lucky." 

"  It  is  a  place  to  hide  in,"  said  Garthe.  "  I 
hate  a  crowd." 

"  I  envy  you  with  all  my  heart.  But  I  could  n't 
live  so.  I  must  see  people.  I  must  be  where 
something  is  going  on.  Settled  down  as  you  are 
here,  I  should  dwindle  into  nothing.  Not  but  that 
I  get  tired  to  death  of  club  life,  of  going  out, 
talking  about  things  I  don't  care  a  button  for,  and 
listening  to  people  I  don't  believe  in.  Still  it 
passes  the  time.  When  a  man  cannot  afford  tc 
marry  he  must  take  what  he  can  get." 

"  When  he  does  marry  he  takes  what  he  can  get," 
Garthe  observed  in  a  peculiar  tone.  The  Angora 
cat  was  purring  on  a  cushion,  sheathing  and  un 
sheathing  her  claws,  and  blinking  at  the  fire.  The 
Skye  had  curled  himself  up  in  a  ball  close  beside 
her. 

"Well,  my  dear  fellow,"  Hartley  exclaimed, 
laughing  as  he  spoke,  "  as  you  have  been  married 
and  I  have  not  been  married  you  understand  the 
subject  and  I  do  not  understand  the  subject.  But 
you  ought  not  to  rob  an  innocent  young  fellow  of 
his  illusions.  I  am  a  marrying  man.  If  I  had 
your  income  and  a  house  like  this,  I  should  want  a 


40        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE   GARTHE. 

pretty  woman  opposite  me  here,  —  or  closer,  just  be 
side  me,  —  with  her  book  or  workbasket  on  the  low 
table,  a  slim  foot  held  up  to  the  fire,  and  a  hand 
within  reach  of  mine.  You  ought  to  marry  again. 
I  tell  you,  Lawrence,  you  ought  to  do  it  on  account 
of  the  boy.  He  must  be  lonely." 

i(r Yes,  he 's  lonely  when  I  am  away." 

"  Do  you  know  many  agreeable  people  in  New 
York  ?  " 

"  Few  or  none.  I  have  no  wish  to  go  into 
society." 

"  Edna  might  do  something  for  you.  I  could 
introduce  you  to  — 

"  I  thank  you,  —  I  am  very  well  off  as  I  am.  I 
am  thrown  occasionally  with  men  of  niy  own 
interests  and  pursuits." 

"  You  do  not  care  to  meet  women  ?  " 

"  No." 

Hartley  was  somewhat  piqued.  "  I  dare  say  you 
are  wise  to  say  4  Enough  is  enough,'  —  not  to  run 
after  the  too  much.  Your  house  is  comfortable  and 
offers  all  you  yourself  require.  If  you  had  a  wife 
she  might  make  it  a  grievance  that  it  is  not  in  a 
fashionable  neighborhood  ;  that  it  is  too  far  from 
the  shops  and  the  theatres.  Either  she  would  be 
obliged  to  go  out  constantly  or  she  would  complain 
of  the  long,  lonely  days." 

Garthe  uttered  a  short,  harsh  laugh.  "  So  that 
is  the  elysium  you  propose  for  me,"  he  said. 
"  Certainly  you  do  not  seem  to  have  much  more 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.        41 

rose-pink  optimism  about  the  sex  than  I  have. 
Don't  say  I  converted  you  to  my  opinion  that  they 
are  all  hungering  and  thirsting  after  sensation,  — 
never  so  much  at  home  as  when  they  are  abroad. 
If  a  man  craves  domestic  comfort,  let  him  look  at 
the  crowds  of  women  in  the  street  whose  only 
object  is  to  kill  time !  " 

"  Oh,  come !"  said  Hartley.  "  You  are  prejudiced, 
one-sided.  There  are  plenty  of  domestic  women." 

"  You  cannot  take  up  a  magazine,  even  a  daily 
paper,  without  having  'Woman's  Work,'  'Woman's 
Progress,'  '  Woman's  Mission,'  staring  you  in  the 
face.  And  what  it  means  is  that  the  whole  sex  is 
rebellious,  revolutionary,  dissatisfied,  each  craving 
a  personal  career.  They  have  got  the  idea  into 
their  heads  that  they  are  sphinxes,  and  are  bent  on 
elucidating  their  own  riddle." 

His  tone,  his  glance,  the  lines  about  his  mouth, 
all  showed  that  he  was  in  earnest.  It  might  have 
seemed  as  if  he  were  under  the  goad  of  some  tyran 
nous  reality,  clear  to  his  own  perceptions. 

"  However,"  he  proceeded,  with  a  gesture  as  of 
concession,  "  if  your  experience  of  women  is  more 
fortunate  than  mine,  I  congratulate  you." 

"  When  a  man  hates  women,"  said  Hartley,  "  it 
is  because  he  has  loved  one  of  them  too  much.  I 
have  kept  on  the  safe  side." 

"You're  sensible.  But  when  you  told  me 
to-night  that  something  had  gone  wrong  with  you,  I 
at  once  laid  it  to  a  woman." 


42        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Hartley  had  grown  suddenly  serious. 

"  But  I  was  not  in  love,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
Then  in  a  different  manner  he  burst  out,  "  Hang  it, 
I  have  not  the  peace  of  mind,  the  leisure,  to  fall  in 
love.  I  'm  too  restless,  too  much  at  the  mercy  of 
events.  When  I  get  up  in  the  morning  I  have 
other  things  to  think  about.  You  know  how  I 
stand  financially, — just  where  I  was  six  months 
ago  when  I  borrowed  live  hundred  dollars  of  you. 
Koylance  ties  me  hand  and  foot ;  he  is  afraid  of  his 
own  shadow.  If  it  were  not  for  a  little  outside 
business  of  my  own  I  should  not  know  where  to 
look  for  ready  money,  and  lately  every  venture  has 
been  unlucky." 

"  Things  have  gone  wrong  to-day  ?  " 

"  You  were  right  about  there  being  a  woman  in 
the  case.  I  have  been  running  after  a  widow  for 
more  than  a  year,  supposing  her  to  be  rich  ;  now  it 
turns  out  that  she  has  little  or  nothing." 

"  Did  you  find  it  out  before  you  had  made  an 
offer?" 

u  I  am  going  to  tell  you  exactly  what  happened. 
I  want  to  see  how  it  strikes  a  contemporary.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  Bernard  Garner,  the  lawyer,  who 
died  four  years  ago  ?  He  left  a  young  wife,  and  a 
daughter  not  far  from  her  age.  They  spend  their 
summers  at  the  Goddards'  on  the  Hudson,  next  to 
Edna's  country  house,  and  we  were  first  thrown 
together  there.  Here  in  town  I  have  visited  them 

o 

constantly.     The  widow  was  charming,  —  the  step. 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A  CONTEMPOEAEY.       43 

daughter  was  charming.  It  was  a  case  of  'How 
happy  could  I  be  with  either ! '  It  was  all  so  easy, 
so  natural.  I  seemed  to  have  stepped  into  a  place 
ready  made  for  me.  They  lived  handsomely, — 
there  was  every  reason  in  the  world  for  supposing 
they  were  rich  as  Croesus.  Well,  to-night — " 
He  broke  off  suddenly. 

"  Well,  what  happened  to-night  ?  Did  you  offer 
yourself  to  the  wrong  one  ?  " 

"  I  had  no  chance  to  offer  myself  to  anybody," 
said  Hartley,  and  without  the  faintest  reserve 
recounted  his  experience. 

"  There  sat  the  girl,  calm,  proud,  sincere,  turning 
to.  me  with  her  splendid  eyes  and  throwing  down 
the  fact  like  a  challenge  that  they  were  poor." 

Garthe,  with  an  intent,  rather  puzzled  look,  had 
followed  the  confession,  evidently  trying  to  under 
stand  the  logic  of  the  situation. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  she  wished  you  to  come  to 
the  point?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  suspect  that  she  had  heard 
I  could  only  afford  to  marry  a  rich  woman,  and  so 
considered  it  honest  and  just  to  put  the  true  state 
of  the  case  before  me." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  her  ?  " 

"Nothing  to  the  point.  Fancy,  if  you  can,  the 
insufferable  position  of  a  man  who,  when  he  hears 
that  the  woman  he  has  been  making  love  to  has 
not  money  enough  to  support  him,  simply  grins 
like  a  baboon  and  withdraws." 


44        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  I  can't  fancy  it,"'  said  Garthe.  "  I  advise  yon 
to  go  back  to-morrow  and  offer  yourself  like  a  man." 

Hartley,  however,  had  relegated  the  incident  to  a 
past  stage  in  his  experience,  and  now  looked  back 
upon  it,  if  not  with  complacency,  at  least  with 
composure. 

"No,"  he  said,  "there  is  no  step  backward. 
They  do  not  want  me.  The  widow  must  marry 
money,  just  the  same  as  I  must  marry  money.  I 
fancy  Constance  is  glad  to  get  me  out  of  the  way. 
She  is  passionately  devoted  to  her  step-mother." 

"  You  are  sure  it  was  not  a  mere  test  of  your 
disinterestedness  ?  " 

"Quite  sure,"  said  Hartley.  "I  was  in  the 
wrong  all  the  time.  To  begin  with,  it  was  the  girl 
I  was  actually  a  little  in  love  with.  I  can't 
exactly  explain  it,  but  my  instinct  sounded  her 
through,  and  I  did  not  think  she  cared  about  me ; 
while  the  other  —  However,  I  will  not  be  such  a 
coxcomb  as  to  say  that  anybody  ever  cared  a 
button  about  me.  The  odd  circumstance  is  that 
the  girl  is,  compared  with  the  stepmother,  very 
well  off.  I  'm  always  making  mistakes." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Garthe,  "  you  will  never  get 
over  the  torment  of  this  until  you  put  yourself 
right,  no  matter  what  happens  afterwards.  Go 
back  to-morrow  aud  offer  yourself." 

u  I  would  to  the  girl,  willingly." 

"  Because  she  has  some  money  ? "  Garthe  de 
manded  indignantly. 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A   CONTEMPORARY.       45 

"  No ;  because  if  it  is  possible  for  me  to  fall  in 
love  with  any  woman  she  is  that  woman.  Don't 
be  too  hard  on  me,  Lawrence,"  Hartley  went  on 
with  a  groan.  "  My  fate  is  not  too  easy.  It  cuts 
me  off  from  generous  impulses." 

Garthe  was  sensible  of  so  much  confusion  in  his 
ideas  concerning  essential  points  in  the  story  that 
he  did  not  venture  to  make  up  his  mind  against  his 
cousin,  who  invariably  posed  as  something  better  or 
worse  than  he  actually  was.  By  this  time  it  was 
midnight,  and  Hartley  —  although  declaring  that 
he  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  going  to  his  lonely 
room  to  find  his  groveling  self  for  sole  companion 
—  rose  to  go.  Garthe  detained  him  a  few  mo 
ments,  put  a  few  questions,  then  sent  him  away 
happier  and  richer. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHEN   HALF-GODS   GO. 

WHEN  Bernard  Garner  brought  home  his  sec 
ond  wife, —  the  only  child  of  his  old  friend  Ailing- 
ton  Pierpont  of  Virginia, —  Constance  was  a  girl  of 
thirteen,  and  her  mother  had  been  dead  ten  years. 
Her  two  sisters  were  already  married,  her  brothers 
were  at  college,  and  henceforward  this  sweet,  bright 
young  step-mother  made  the  first  interest  in  her 
life,  drew  from  her,  ardor,  devotion,  loyalty,  —  a 
longing  for  self-sacrifice,  a  feeling  that  she  must 
not  only  love  but  guard.  For  Constance  divined 
by  instinct,  although  she  had  never  quite  for 
mulated  her  idea,  that  Kathleen's  strong  point 
was  not  logic  or  discrimination.  Kathy  herself 
confessed  it.  "  But  then,"  she  would  explain,  "  I 
was  not  braced  up  by  discipline ;  I  was  not  really 
educated.  We  could  not  afford  it,  and  papa  always 
said  that  a  born  lady  was  endowed  by  Heaven  with 
whatever  she  ought  to  know,  and  that  he  consid 
ered  it  a  risk  to  interfere  with  the  intentions  of  a 
wise  Providence.  Then  Mr.  Garner  always  told 
me  he  was  glad  I  was  not  learned,  that  it  was 
enough  for  a  woman  to  know  how  to  spell,  and  that 
two  and  two  make  four.  1  confess  I  never  could 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  47 

understand  clearly  that  two  and  two  do  make  four, 
but,  you  see,  I  was  brought  up  on  fairy  stories  and 
the  Arabian  Nights,  and  have  always  expected  odd, 
delightful,  and  surprising  things  to  happen." 

It  had  been  one  of  these  unexpected  events  when 
she  was  snatched  from  her  decaying  Virginian 
home  to  preside  over  Bernard  Garner's  house  in 
New  York.  Mr.  Garner  was  fond  of  his  young 
wife,  but  he  was  an  active  man,  engrossed  in  busi 
ness  and  politics,  and  was  obliged  to  content  him 
self  with  giving  her  all  the  money  she  could  spend, 
and  leaving  her  and  Constance  to  take  care  of  each 
other.  He  lived  but  a  few  years  after  this  mar 
riage,  dying  with  awful  suddenness,  of  heart  failure, 
the  effect  of  exhaustion  and  bad  air,  at  the  end  of 
an  arduous  and  exciting  case  in  court.  He  had 
been  wholly  free  from  organic  disease,  and  his 
death  was  apparently  a  mere  accident.  Like  a 
thief  in  the  night  it  had  come  and  had  robbed 
Kathleen  and  Constance,  not  only  of  husband  and 
father,  but  of  the  ease  and  prosperity  his  continued 
life  would  have  insured  them.  Then  a  bank  which 
held  a  large  balance  belonging  to  him  was  ruined 
in  consequence  of  heavy  defalcations,  and  other 
losses  followed ;  for  troubles,  as  everybody  knows, 
come  "  not  as  single  spies,  but  in  battalions." 

"  What  will  Kathy  do?  "  was  the  one  thought  of 
Constance  in  season  and  out  of  season. 

"  She  must  marry  again.  That  is  her  metier" 
the  brothers  and  sisters  had  said.  And  although 


48         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

the  idea  of  death  did  not  soon  efface  itself  iu  the 
house,  where  everything  seemed  still  to  watch  and 
wait  for  the  absent  master,  Constance  had  no  re 
course  save  to  hold  to  this  solution  of  the  problem, 
although  for  her  to  have  framed  it  in  words  to 
Kathleen  would  have  been  a  treason,  a  profanation. 
It  was  simply  that,  weighing  her  individuality 
against  Kathy's,  she  found  it  essential  to  herself 
that  Kathy  should  be  happy,  have  wide  horizons,  a 
chance  for  enthusiasm,  power  to  make  her  life 
beautiful.  Constance  had  not,  so  far,  thought  in 
the  least  about  her  own  personal  cravings,  but  her 
imagination  was  full  of  fancies  about  Kathy's 
future,  Kathy's  happiness.  She  was  still  so  young 
that  she  had  not  fitted  her  abstract  ideas  to  the 
concrete.  Kathy  was  to  marry  again  because  she 
needed,  for  all  the  coming  years,  affections  to  fix 
her  heart,  simple  duties  to  which  to  bind  herself. 
Gay  and  sad  by  turns,  delighting  in  change,  in  new 
ideas,  launching  into  crude  ambitions,  she  was  to 
Constance  the  most  charming,  the  most  feminine, 
the  most  dangerous  of  all  women,  the  one  most  re 
quiring  a  support  and  guide.  A  happy  second  mar 
riage  now,  which  should  bring  her  a  good  husband 
and  children,  —  that  was  the  destiny  Constance 
desired  to  appoint  for  her.  The  girl's  youthful 
enthusiasm,  always  ready  to  interpret  the  world  and 
its  events  nobly,  was  shown  in  the  way  in  which  she 
had  for  a  time  idealized  Ferdinand  Hartley.  He 
must  be  the  man  she  had  dreamed  of  for  Kathy, 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  49 

because  he  came  at  the  moment  he  was  needed,  like 
the  prince  in  fairy  tales.  He  was  handsome,  sat 
well,  walked  well,  talked  fairly,  and  could  amuse 
women  with  an  air  of  wonderful  elegance.  It  was 
not  strange  that  he  started  in  the  mind  of  Con 
stance  a  train  of  subtle  sentiment  and  that  she  in 
vested  him  —  in  his  character  of  Kathy's  suitor  — 
with  romantic  glamour.  And,  indeed,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  he  played  his  part  to  perfection.  The  stage 
seemed  to  be  his ;  the  circle  of  the  Garners  during 
their  period  of  deep  mourning  was  a  small  one.  It 
was  made  up  of  the  Challoners,  of  John  Marchmont, 
the  artist,  a  friend  and  contemporary  of  Bernard 
Garner,  who  had  always  come  and  gone  in  the 
house  with  the  most  perfect  intimacy,  of  Con 
stance's  sisters,  Mrs.  Goddard  and  Mrs.  Tracy,  and 
their  families,  and  of  her  brothers.  Naturally, 
with  Ferdinand  Hartley  as  the  one  outsider,  his 
attentions  did  not  pass  without  comment;  and 
when  it  was  made  clear  that  Mrs.  Garner  was  the 
object  of  his  pursuit,  each  of  the  lookers-on,  except 
Mrs.  Challoner  and  John  Marchmont,  was  willing 
to  accept  him  for  what  he  seemed  to  be, —  a  young 
man  of  good  looks  and  good  family,  a  fairly  desir 
able  parti,  who  was  entitled  to  everybody's  gratitude 
for  taking  Kathy  off  their  hands.  It  was  Mrs.  Chal 
loner,  invariably  keen-eyed,  who  detected  some 
thing  unstable,  flickering  and  inconsistent  in  Hart 
ley  ;  and  it  was  John  Marchmont  who,  the  moment 
he  found  an  ally  in  her,  went  a  step  further  and 


50         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

suggested  to  Steven  Goddard  that  they  were  too 
ready  to  give  away  Bernard  Garner's  widow ;  that 
she  was  very  young,  very  ignorant  of  the  world,  and 
that  she  ought  not  to  be  permitted  a  chance  to 
become  attached  to  a  man  unless  his  eligibility  had 
been  subjected  to  a  rigid  scrutiny. 

Thus  it  had  been  John  Marchmont  who  was  actu 
ally  behind  events  and  had  set  the  forces  in  play 
whose  operations  we  have  seen.  Awakened  to  a 
sense  of  his  responsibilities,  Steven  Goddard  finally 
bestirred  himself,  and  it  had  been  at  the  very  wed 
ding  when  Hartley  had  figured  as  best  man,  that 
he  suddenly  startled  his  sister-in-law  by  saying,  "  I 
don't  like  that  fellow's  going  to  your  house  so 
much.  They  say  he  is  heavily  in  debt,  —  that  he 
wants  a  rich  wife.  Can  it  be  that  he  supposes 
Mrs.  Garner  has  money?" 

"Mr.  Hartley  in  debt!  "  repeated  Constance  in 
dismay.  "  Wanting  a  rich  wife  !  How  could  he 
possibly  believe  that  Kathy  has  money  ? '' 

"  I  have  it  from  men  who  know  him,  that  he  has 
always  laughed  at  the  idea  of  marriage  unless  he 
could  come  into  at  least  ten  thousand  a  year  by 
it." 

"Is  he  so  mercenary?"  Constance  murmured, 
feeling  as  if  all  she  believed  in  was  melting  from 
beneath  her  feet. 

"  He  is  hard  up, —  he  is  no  more  mercenary  than 
anybody  else.  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  /  think 
ne  ought  to  be  informed  just  how  Mrs.  Garner 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  51 

stands  ;  but  I  don't  know  exactly  who  is  to  tell 
him." 

Constance  knew,  for  her  own  conscience  was  on 
edge.  She  could  not  have  slept  without  gathering  all 
her  forces  into  one  effort  to  make  everything  clear 
to  the  man  who  had  been  perhaps  deceived  by  the 
clever  little  expedients  she  had  felt  it  graceful  and 
becoming  to  use  in  order  to  hide  the  fact  that  they 
were  not  so  rich  as  they  appeared  to  be.  Honor, 
justice,  common  kindness,  dictated  her  course.  She 
hardly  gave  herself  time  to  make  a  mental  predic 
tion  as  to  how  Hartley  would  bear  the  test  of  this 
sharp  and  importunate  reality.  The  demand  of 
her  heart  and  soul  was  to  tell  the  truth.  For  the 
moment  she  cared  for  nothing  else.  Then,  when  he 
had  crept  away  that  night  after  hearing  her  con 
fession,  tears  filled  her  eyes  and  brimmed  over. 
She  had  detected  in  the  man  she  had  idealized,  not 
only  keen  disappointment,  but  an  utter  absence  of 
any  real  feeling.  The  cohesive  force  of  her  im 
pressions  about  him  seemed  suspended  as  by  a 
touch  of  magic ;  only  a  sense  of  her  mistake  re 
mained, —  a  bewildering  experience.  She  herself 
might  rejoice  to  feel  that  she  had  tested  Hartley 
all  round,  and  might  be  free  of  all  illusions  concern 
ing  him  forevermore.  But  how  about  Kathy,  in 
whom,  all  these  months,  she  had  been  trying  to 
rouse  aspirations  and  sensibilities  which  must  now 
make  her  very  unhappy?  How  should  she  face 
Kathy  ?  To  have  touched  upon  the  subject  in  cold 


52        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

blood,  voluntarily  to  have  told  her  step-mother  that 
Hartley  had  been  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting,  was  impossible.  She  heard  a  rustle  on 
the  stairs,  a  step  in  the  hall,  and  shook  off  her  tears 
disdainfully. 

Kathy  glided  in,  looked  round  the  room,  and 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hartley  has  gone  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Constance,  "  I  did  not  try  to  keep 
him ;  I  told  him  there  was  no  dinner.  Naturally, 
like  other  men  bent  on  dining,  he  went  away." 

"  Greedy  creature,"  murmured  Kathy.  u  But  I 
am  glad.  Look  at  me,  Constance  !  Tell  me  I  am 
lovely,  enchanting,  for  I  know  I  am." 

"  That  gown  is  certainly  very  artistic." 

"  And  becoming ;  no  cold  perfection  for  me !  It 
is  a  delightful  gown.  Don't  you  know  some  gowns, 
when  you  first  put  them  on,  do  not  seem  quite  one's 
own?  One  realizes  that  one  may  finally  get  used 
to  them,  but  for  the  moment  one  is  constrained,  ill 
at  ease  I  But  this  makes  me  feel  light  as  air,  sure 
of  myself,  bold.  I  can  do  anything  in  it,  —  stand, 
sit,  waltz  —  Look  at  me  all  round.  Whichever 
way  one  looks  at  it,  that  seems  to  be  the  very  best 
point  of  view." 

"  You  are  delicious.      But  it  is  time  for  you  to 

go-" 

They  embraced  as  if  for  a  year's  separation. 

"  Do  you  know,  Constance,"  faltered  Kathy, 
clinging  close,  "  beginning  to  dress  and  go  out 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  53 

again  makes  me  feel  that  I  cannot  get  over  miss 
ing  your  father.  It  does  not  seem  quite  worth 
while  to  put  on  new  gowns  unless  he  can  look  at 
me." 

Kathy  returned  triumphant  from  the  dinner 
party,  with  so  many  fresh  impressions  that  she  did 
not  at  first,  when  days  passed  without  Hartley's 
coming  to  the  house,  seem  to  miss  him.  But  after 
a  week  had  gone  by  she  said  to  Constance  :  — 

"  Do  you  suppose  Mr.  Hartley  could  possibly 
have  been  vexed  with  me  for  going  away  that 
evening?  " 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  He  told  me  he  did  not  approve  of  my  going. 
He  put  it  to  my  conscience  whether  I  ought  to  go." 

"  Mr.  Hartley  likes  to  make  a  striking  impres 
sion.  He  does  not  particularly  care  what  it  is. 
Romeo  describes  the  manner  of  man  he  is  when  he 
says  of  Mercutio,  '  He  will  speak  more  in  a  minute 
than  he  will  stand  to  in  a  month.'  ' 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Kathy,  thinking  of  that  kiss  upon 
her  hand  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  She  would 
have  liked  to  ask  Constance  if  it  were  a  fault  or 
an  absurdity  or  an  impertinence  in  Hartley.  If 
the  first  or  last  she  did  not  wish  to  expose  him 
to  censure,  and  if  the  second  to  derision.  She 
gradually  began  to  look  upon  all  he  had  said  and 
done  that  night  as  a  mistake  of  which  he  had 
probably  repented.  Kathy  herself  made  so  many 
mistakes,  committed  so  many  follies,  she  could  be 


64        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GART1IE. 

tender  over  the  weaknesses  of  others.  She  decided 
not  to  speak  of  it,  to  forget  all  about  it,  and 
succeeded  so  well  that  when  some  two  weeks  later 
she  met  Hartley  the  recollection  of  his  indiscretion 
had  slipped  from  her  mind. 

This  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  theatre  party 
made  up  by  Mrs.  Challoner.  She  had  invited 
eight  people,  but  found  herself  flung  over  by  two 
of  the  men  at  the  last  moment,  and  accordingly 
looked  round  the  house,  hoping  to  see  some 
acquaintances  who  might  fill  up  her  box  sociably. 

u  Who  is  that  with  Ferdinand  Hartley  ?  "  she 
inquired. 

But  Kathy,  whom  she  addressed,  had  no  idea 
who  the  dark,  slender  man  standing  beside  Hartley 
in  the  aisle,  waiting  for  the  usher  to  find  their  seats, 
might  be.  "Presentable,  don't  you  think  so?" 
pursued  Mrs.  Challoner.  "And  whatever  Ferdy 
Hartley's  faults  are,  he  never  means  to  make  the 
mistake  of  running  after  people  he  can  make 
nothing  out  of.  Let 's  have  them  both." 

Thus  it  was  by  chance  rather  than  by  intention 
on  any  one's  part  that  Lawrence  Garthe  was  to 
meet  the  Garners.  He  and  Hartley  had  seen  each 
other  frequently  of  late  and  "had  come  to  the 
theatre  together  on  the  second  night  of  a  new  play 
which  had  captured  the  public.  AVhen  the  usher 
brought  Mrs.  Challoner's  card  scribbled  over  with 
an  invitation  to  them  both  to  join  her  party, 
Garthe  was  ready  to  decline  on  the  instant.  It 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  55 

was  opposite  to  his  habit  and  repellant  to  his 
inclination  to  accept,  but  Hartley  clutched  his 
arm. 

"  I  must  go,  —  I  can't  decline  —  under  their 
eyes." 

"  Go,  then ;  go,  by  all  means." 

"  I  can't  face  them  alone.  They  are  both  there. 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  just  as  I  sat  down  and 
have  not  been  able  to  raise  my  eyes.  You  must 
go  with  me." 

"  Nonsense.     I  can  do  nothing  for  you." 

"  But  you  can,"  said  Hartley ;  and  his  embarrass 
ment  was  so  clear  that  Garthe  out  of  pity  was 
constrained  to  acquiesce  and  to  follow  his  compan 
ion  to  Mrs.  Challoner's  box. 

Some  secret  operation  of  his  mind,  hidden  al 
most  to  himself,  enlightened  him  at  the  instant  he 
entered  as  to  the  identity  of  the  girl  whose  eyes 
met  his  with  a  clear  unfaltering  look.  That  was 
Constance,  he  said  to  himself,  and  the  pretty, 
radiant  creature  was  the  widow.  Outwardly  he 
was  the  quietest  of  men,  but  it  suddenly  struck 
him  sharply  that  he  was  a  fool  to  have  wandered 
out  of  the  path  he  had  appointed  to  himself.  Not 
that  he  magnified  the  possible  significance  of  the 
event  or  had  any  ominous  vision  of  possible 
results  to  follow  it.  But  the  sense  of  pleasure 
with  which  he  encountered  the  four  women,  Mrs. 
Challoner,  her  niece,  and  the  Garners,  startled  him 
with  its  undercurrent  of  strangeness,  its  almost 


56        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

pathetic  contrast  to  his  usual  mood.  He  said  to 
himself  again  that  he  had  joined  the  party  of 
strangers  only  because  he  apprehended  the  delicacy 
of  Hartley's  position  and  felt  for  him. 

Hartley,  however,  after  a  single  moment  of 
discomposure,  glided  with  his  usual  ease  through 
the  ordeal.  What  he  had  dreaded  had  been  some 
change  of  attitude  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Garner 
and  Constance.  But  after  Mrs.  Challoner,  always 
smiling,  good-natured,  and  slightly  satirical,  had 
welcomed  him,  after  he  had  bowed  to  Blanche,  he 
had  turned  to  Kathleen,  who,  with  just  her  usual 
manner,  told  him  that  he  had  deserted  them  of  late, 
but  that  they  had  been  talking  of  sending  him 
an  invitation  to  dinner.  Even  Constance  shook 
hands  with  him  in  a  friendly  way.  Too  much 
kindness  may  have  the  effect  of  cruelty,  and 
Hartley,  as  he  took  his  stand  behind  the  group  of 
women,  did  not  loom  up  as  a  giant  to  his  own  per 
ceptions.  On  how  fine  a  needle's  point  a  man's 
supremacy  is  balanced !  How  quickly  the  scale  is 
turned  !  Instead  of  embarrassing  him  by  criticism 
or  curiosity,  everybody  was  looking  at  Garthe, 
whom  John  Marehmont  had  known  in  Europe  and 
bad  greeted  warmly  as  an  old  acquaintance. 
Hartley  knew  very  well  that  nothing  pleased  Mrs. 
Challoner  so  much  as  a  new  acquaintance  whom 
she  could  conceive  in  an  imaginative  way  and 
invest  with  all  the  charming  qualities  she  had 
found  lacking  in  the  people  she  had  tried  and 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  57 

tested.  Hartley  dwindled  in  his  own  eyes  as  he 
watched  Garthe  drop  into  the  chair  she  indicated 
behind  her,  just  at  the  right  angle  for  Mrs. 
Garner  to  turn  towards  him,  effectively  showing 
that  slight  charming  face  with  its  ripple  of  smiles 
and  blushes  under  the  cloud  of  fair  hair.  He 
could  see  that  Garthe,  as  he  bent  forward  and 
addressed  her,  constantly  smiled  in  return. 

Garthe  himself  was  conscious  of  finding  beauty 
in  Kathleen,  the  sort  of  beauty  that  comes  and 
goes,  that,  absent,  leaves  a  longing  for  it  as  for  the 
smile  of  a  child.  To  realize  just  what  he  felt, 
however,  in  this  sudden  and  unexpected  entrance 
into  a  different  world,  would  be  to  realize  a  chill 
and  empty  atmosphere  without  real  warmth  and 
without  light,  in  which  heat  and  color  begin  to 
unite  and  burn,  and  to  glorify  the  commonest 
things  into  beauty.  He  was  first  moved  by  a 
sense  of  welcome,  then  of  charm.  He  sat  bending 
forward,  giving  ear  quite  impartially  to  the  two 
women  as  they  confided  to  him  and  to  each  other 
their  crisp  and  laughing  criticism  of  the  leading 
lady  on  the  stage,  whose  chief  effort  seemed  to  be 
to  show  that  she  had  emulated  Bernhardt,  at  least 
in  studying  the  effect  of  her  own  draperies.  She 
coiled  about  sinuously,  sat  in  spirals,  wheeled 
round  full-face  at  the  same  time  that  her  back  was 
towards  the  audience,  with  her  train  spread  out 
like  a  peacock's  tail ;  and  as  she  sat,  reclined,  rose, 
embraced,  or  fainted  with  emotion,  was,  from  her 


58        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

lack  of  any  spontaneity  or  naturalness,  a  comic 
display  to  these  observers. 

Garthe,  amused,  threw  in  a  word  now  and  then ; 
but  as  he  bent  forward  his  eyes  became  gradually 
riveted,  not  on  the  face  of  Kathleen,  but  on 
Constance's  pure,  proud  profile  beyond.  The  girl 
sat  with  her  attention  fixed  apparently  on  the 
stage,  but  twice  she  had  looked  at  him  with  an 
indefinable  glance  which  had  arrested  his  attention 
and  made  him  wonder  what  was  behind  it.  "  I 
wish  she  would  turn  her  face  this  way  again,"  he 
said  to  himself ;  and,  as  if  compelled,  she  did  so, 
and  met  his  eyes,  again  with  that  large  child-like 
gaze  of  wistful  curiosity,  almost  a  solemnity  of 
expectation.  There  seemed  to  be  no  hindering 
self-consciousness  in  her  mind,  no  sense  of  the 
effect  of  her  own  beauty,  an  utter  absence  both  of 
assumption  and  demand  so  far  as  she  herself  was 
concerned ;  yet  at  the  same  time  he  recognized  in 
her  glance  a  sort  of  appeal. 

"  Who  is  your  friend?  "  she  inquired  of  Hartley 
at  the  end  of  the  first  act. 

Glad  of  a  subject,  Hartley  gave  a  rapid  sketch 
of  Garthe's  career,  although  actually  he  was  ac 
quainted  with  but  a  narrow  fringe  of  its  incidents. 
What  he  could  touch  upon  with  enthusiasm  was 
the  character  of  his  cousin,  his  intellect,  his  per 
sistent,  indomitable  energy,  the  amount  of  hard 
work  he  had  already  accomplished. 

"  Rather  a  fascinating  face,"  said  Constance. 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  59 

u  I  never  considered.  Garthe  handsome,"  said 
Hartley,  with  the  surprise  natural  to  a  really  hand 
some  man  when  the  good  looks  of  another  are 
praised. 

"  Certainly  not  handsome,  perhaps  rather  ugly," 
Constance  hastened  to  say,  amply  atoning  to  Hartley, 
who  thought  she  implied  that  if  she  found  Garthe 
acceptable  it  was  by  a  triumph  of  mind  over  matter. 

"  See  him  laugh  at  what  Mrs.  Garner  is  saying," 
Hartley  murmured.  "  I  actually  feel  as  if  fate  had 
brought  them  together." 

Constance  flushed  proudly  ;  but  had  she  not  her 
self  seemed  to  make  Kathy  a  merchantable  thing 
waiting  in  the  market  for  a  trader  ?  Having  haz 
arded  this  suggestion,  and  waited  for  a  moment  to 
measure  its  effect,  he  went  on :  — 

"  When  you  spoke  to  me  the  other  night,  I  was 
overwhelmed ;  I  might  have  said  something,  but  what 
right  had  I  to  speak  ?  No,  I  had  no  right ;  I  have 
been  glad  since  that  even  at  the  risk  of  being  mis 
understood  I  did  not  utter  a  syllable.  Sometimes 
when  a  man  has  been  too  presumptuous,  all  he  can 
do  is  to  go  away  —  no  matter  where." 

Constance  looked  at  him,  bewildered,  but  at  the 
same  time  reassured  by  this  frank  and  free  allusion. 

"I  simply  wished  to  let  you  understand,"  she 
began,  but  he  made  a  little  gesture. 

"  Shall  we  forget  it  all?  "  he  asked. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  she  returned. 

"  It  was  like  cutting  my  hand  off,  like  tearing 


60        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

my  heart  out,"  he  said.  "  But  it  is  done,  and  now 
that  I  am  here  again  with  you  both  I  feel  grateful 
to  you.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me,  —  I  have  weighed 
everything.  I  have  surrendered,  —  I  have  the  peace 
of  mind  which  comes  to  a  man  when  he  accepts 
defeat ;  but  there  is  Garthe  who  has  succeeded  in 
everything  he  has  undertaken.  He  shines  me 
down." 

If  the  passionate  pain  of  the  lover  did  not  ring 
in  these  words,  they  were  less  likely  to  make  Con 
stance  feel  remorse.  It  pleased  her  heart  and  head 
that  Hartley  was  not  as  unworthy  as  she  had  feared. 
It  was  also  a  relief  that  Kathy,  next  day,  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  him,  and  spoke  only  of  Lawrence 
Garthe. 

Both  men  were  coming  to  dinner  that  evening, 
and  it  was  natural  for  Constance  to  tell  all  she 
had  heard  about  the  antecedents  of  the  new  ac 
quaintance  ;  how  he  had  been  married  before  he  was 
twenty-three,  had  lost  his  wife,  who  had  left  an  in 
fant  son ;  how  he  lived  quietly  up-town  in  a  com 
fortable  little  house,  and  was  engaged  in  bringing 
out  a  book.  Constance  could  tell  so  much,  although 
she  and  Garthe,  while  vividly  conscious  of  each 
other,  had  not  exchanged  a  word.  It  was  Kathy 
who  was  able  to  describe  him  more  exactly.  She 
admired  him,  she  declared  :  his  speech  was  easy  and 
deliberate ;  he  was  always  himself,  never  abrogated 
his  individuality,  did  not  strive  for  effect;  his 
glance  though  searching  was  sympathetic ;  his  smile 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  61 

was  a  delightful  surprise.  One  tried  to  make  it  re 
turn. 

Constance  could  only  say  to  herself  that  when 
half-gods  go  the  gods  arrive.  Kathy  had  never 
spoken  of  Hartley  with  so  much  enthusiasm. 
Never,  never  would  she,  Constance,  endeavor  again 
to  stir  an  impulse  in  another ;  but,  not  to  thwart 
what  was  a  clear  case  of  destiny,  she  agreed  with 
Kathy  that  Garthe's  face  was  interesting,  clearly 
cut,  thoughtful,  yet  capable  of  lighting  up  into  de 
cided  charm.  It  was  very  decided  —  the  face  of  a 
man  who  had  suffered ;  not  only  who  had  suffered, 
but  who  was  familiar  with  suffering,  who  had  ac 
cepted  suffering  and  the  discipline  it  brought. 

John  Marchmont,  habitually  conscious  of  being 
too  old,  too  grim,  too  gray  about  the  temples  to 
make  an  attempt  to  win  Bernard  Garner's  widow, 
yet  who  had  contrived  rather  neatly  to  get  rid  of 
Hartley  as  a  possible  rival,  was  rather  startled,  on 
coming  to  the  house  that  evening,  to  find  that  a  new 
star  had  risen  in  Kathy's  firmament.  But  then 
to  elderly  people  the  world  is  always  inconven 
iently  crowded  by  the  young,  the  aspiring,  the 
revolutionary. 

Garthe  was,  as  a  stranger,  accorded  the  first 
place.  He  led  Mrs.  Garner  out  to  dinner,  and  on 
his  side  observed  with  interest  that  John  March- 
niont  escorted  Mrs.  Challoner  and  himself  took  the 
foot  of  the  table  with  an  air  of  being  at  home  in  the 
house.  He  was  a  tall  man  with  gray  hair  and 


62        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

mustache,  and  brown  eyes  of  singular  brilliancy. 
Mrs.  Challoner  was  a  woman  of  fifty,  dark,  odd,  pi 
quant,  rather  ugly  except  for  her  bright  glance  and 
the  dazzling  gleam  of  her  teeth  when  she  smiled. 
She  wore  rose-color,  with  strings  of  pearls  round  her 
throat  and  wrists,  and  gave  the  requisite  touch  of 
color  to  the  table,  for  Mrs.  Garner  was  in  black,  di 
aphanous  with  jet,  but  still  black,  and  Constance  had 
on  a  white  gown  guiltless  of  a  furbelow.  Garthe 
was  seated  between  his  two  hostesses.  Hartley  had 
brought  Constance  to  the  table ;  then,  after  seating 
her,  had  gone  to  his  own  place  at  Mrs.  Garner's  left. 

Garthe  again  had  experienced  the  same  look  from 
Constance  of  nai've  interest  and  expectation  which 
had  perplexed  him  the  night  before.  To-night,  hav 
ing  thought  about  it  all  day,  it  seemed  to  answer 
some  clear  hope  and  expectation  in  his  mind.  He 
longed  to  talk  to  her,  but  knew  not  how  to 
begin.  It  was  Mrs.  Challoner  and  John  Marchmont 
who  at  once  plunged  into  a  lively  controversy. 
They  had  met  that  day  at  a  private  sale  of  French 
oil  paintings.  She  had  asked  him  what  was  best 
worth  buying,  and  had  made  a  bid  for  a  certain 
picture,  only  to  find  that  he  had  been  before  her 
and  had  secured  it  for  himself. 

"  I  told  you  it  was  worth  buying,"  he  said  by 
way  of  defense.  "  I  did  not  tell  you  it  was  to  be 
bought." 

"  But  I  coveted  it  the  moment  I  set  my  eyes  on 
it.  I  was  excessively  disappointed." 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  63 

"  I  had  to  have  it,  don't  you  see,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Challoner  ?  It  was  decreed  from  the  very  beginning 
of  things  that  Cazin  was  to  paint  that  picture  ex 
pressly  for  me.  There  it  was,  a  long  flat  road 
edged  with  poplars  trimmed  almost  to  poles ;  a  gath 
ering  storm,  thickening  dusk ;  a  man  toiling  up  the 
footpath  with  a  load  of  faggots  on  his  back.  And 
I  am  only  rich  enough  to  buy  a  picture  when  I 
cannot  possibly  go  on  living  without  it,"  whereas 
you  can  buy  them  by  the  half-dozen,  and  at  any 
time." 

"I  liked  that  Cazin  because  it  was  so  restful," 
said  Mrs.  Challoner.  "  I  could  have  put  it  on  the 
easel  in  my  morning-room  and  have  sat  and  looked 
at  it  when  I  was  tired  and  out  of  spirits." 

"  But  then  you  never  are  tired  or  out  of  spirits. 
People  never  are  until  they  are  old,  and  you  are 
young." 

"  If  I  am  not  old,  who  is  old  ?  I  wonder  if  you 
pretend  to  be  older  than  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  thousand  years  older.  The  moment 
you  are  presented  with  a  new  idea  you  want  it ; 
while  my  feeling  at  all  novelty  is,  '  Thank  heaven, 
I  've  rounded  that  cape  ! ' : 

"  The  thing  with  me  is,  I  can't  afford  to  let  my 
self  seem  old.  What  would  Mr.  Challoner  think 
of  it,  particularly  as  we  have  no  daughters  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  it  is,  —  besides  being  young  and 
happy  you  enjoy  the  supreme  consolation  of  a  hus 
band.  Now  I  have  no  wife,  —  never  did  have  one." 


64        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  That  is  the  reason  you  suppose  a  husband  to  be 
a  supreme  consolation.  Just  as  if  the  very  reason 
I  longed  so  for  that  picture  was  because,  having  a 
husband,  I  never  can  enjoy  any  proper  peace  of 
mind." 

"You  and  Challoner  don't  seem  to  wear  each 
other  out.  You  told  me  this  afternoon  you  had 
not  eaten  a  meal  together  for  a  week." 

"That"  is  just  what  does  wear  me  out.  If  a 
woman  could  have  her  husband  always  under  her 
eye,  there  might  be  some  possible  comfort.  But  I 
am  compelled  to  lie  in  my  bed  and  suffer  each 
morning  to  think  of  Mr.  Challoner  eating  his  break 
fast  alone.  Then  at  luncheon  he  is  miles  away 
down-town,  who  knows  where  ?  Then  if  I  go  out 
to  dinner,  —  and  I  assure  you  I  go  out  to  dinner  as 
often  as  anybody  will  ask  me,  —  he  has  a  standing 
engagement  at  his  club.  So  you  see !  No,  it  is 
impossible  to  take  it  lightly,  —  so  long  as  you  are 
married,  you  are  the  victim  of  a  dreadful  sense  of 
responsibility-  If  your  actual  husband  is  not  there, 
the  phantom  of  duty  is." 

Constance,  laughing  slightly,  happened  to  glance 
at  Garthe  and  saw  his  face  change  under  her  eyes. 
A  little  frown  came  between  his  brows,  —  each 
feature  altered  in  expression.  She  said  to  herself 
that  she  and  Kathy  ought  to  have  been  talking  to 
him  instead  of  leaving  him  to  be  amused  by  this 
intimate  encounter  between  Mr.  Marchmont  and 
Mrs.  Challoner.  But  then  the  objection  to  a 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  65 

small  dinner  is  that  every  one  is  expected  to  talk 
equally,  yet  the  conversation  is  apt  to  be  monopo 
lized  by  one  or  two ;  and  to  enjoy  jokes,  allusions, 
and  repartees,  one  requires  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  people,  their  idiosyncrasies,  their  likings  and 
dislikings.  Mr.  Garthe  could  not  possibly  know 
what  a  devoted  couple  the  Challoners  were.  But 
Garthe  caught  Constance's  perplexed  and  wistful 
look,  and  smiled. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that  Cazin,"  he  observed, 
and  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  actually  addressed 
her. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  too,"  she  replied.  "  Mr. 
Marchmont  lives  out  at  Bowhill,  and  Kathy  shall 
persuade  him  to  give  us  a  studio  party,  and  you 
shall  go  with  us.  Kathy  dear,  tell  Mr.  Marchmont 
that  we  are  longing,  Mr.  Garthe  and  I,  to  see  his 
Cazin." 

"  I  am  always  asking  the  most  incredible  things 
of  Mr.  Marchmont,"  said  Kathy,  looking/ up  at 
Garthe  with  her  prettiest  blush  and  her  abashed  in 
fantile  glance,  but  directing  her  voice  across  the 
table,  "  and  yet  I  am  so  dreadfully  afraid  of  him." 

The  artist  heard  her  and  glanced  back  severely. 
"  I  know  that  preamble  by  heart,"  he  observed. 
"  How  am  I  to  be  victimized  now  ?  " 

"  It  was  Mr.  Garthe  who  put  it  into  my  head," 
she  said,  imploringly.  "  That  is,  he  suggested  to 
Constance  — 

"  I  care  very  little  what  Mr.  Garthe  wants,  or 


66        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

even  Constance.  They  are  logical  and  reasonable 
people  and  do  not  expect,  in  this  world  at  least,  to 
get  everything  they  have  a  fancy  for,"  said  Mr. 
Marchmont.  "  It  is  when  you  set  your  heart  on 
anything  that  I  tremble." 

44  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  not  logical,  that  I  am 
not  reasonable  ? "  said  Kathy  with  an  air  of 
candid  surprise. 

44 1  mean  that  when  you  wish  a  thing  to  happen, 
it  has  to  happen, — just  as  an  earthquake,  a 
cyclone,  a  tornado,  rushes  on  in  its  course,  careless 
of  what  stands  in  its  way." 

44  Very  well,"  said  Kathy  with  a  gesture  of 
prerogative.  44  Since  you  say  I  have  to  have  all  I 
ask  for,  so  be  it.  I  want  you  to  give  us  a  studio 
party  and  show  us  the  Cazin." 

44  Fix  the  day  and  hour.  Tell  me  whom  to 
invite  and  what  you  desire  me  to  order  to  suit 
your  appetite." 

44  Oh,  just  ourselves,"  said  Kathy,  extending  a 
fair  arm  in  each  direction  as  if  to  embrace  the 
tableful ;  44  and  give  us  afternoon  tea  with  choco 
late  and  buttered  muffins,  and  three-cornered  sand 
wiches  full  of  all  sorts  of  little  relishes,  and  fancy 
cakes  with  icing.  As  for  the  day,  Mrs.  Challo- 
ner  shall  settle  that.  She  has  so  many  things 
to  do." 

44  Nothing  but  what  I  will  gladly  throw  over," 
said  Mrs.  Challoner,  44  although  it  does  seem  little 
short  of  effrontery  to  ask  me  to  go  twelve  miles 


WHEN  HALF- GODS  GO.  67 

out  of  town  to  see  a  picture  I  was  shamefully 
robbed  of.  But  it  will  be  a  relief  for  a  few  hours 
to  do  something  I  ought  not  to  do.  I  am  so  worn 
out,  —  pulled  in  so  many  different  directions. 
Everybody  comes  to  me  to  ask  me  to  be  a  manager, 
to  be  a  patroness,  to  give  my  name,  to  give  ten 
dollars,  to  open  my  drawing-room  —  ' 

"  But  why  do  you  do  it  ?  "  asked  John  March- 
mont.  "  All  you  fashionable  women  put  your 
selves  voluntarily  into  that  treadmill  existence, 
and  then  complain." 

"  I  can't  afford  to  be  left  out  in  the  cold.  You 
see  I  was  born  before  these  new  ideas  came  in,  and 
in  order  to  keep  up  with  them  I  am  obliged  to  go 
everywhere,  see,  hear,  touch,  and  handle  every 
thing.  It  is  unspeakable  what  tasks  the  new 
generation  set  us !  One  year  I  actually  attended 
a  cooking-school  and  made  pates  and  croquettes 
with  my  own  hands." 

"  I  wish  I  might  have  had  the  privilege  of  eat 
ing  them,"  said  Hartley,  who,  with  a  feeling  of 
being  left  out  in  the  cold,  had  consoled  himself  by 
devoting  himself  to  his  dinner. 

"You  might  not  have  lived  to  express  your 
gratitude  for  the  favor.  They  were  detestable. 
My  cook,  who  thought  it  a  shocking  waste  of 
good  material,  said,  '  An'  sure,  it 's  strange  how 
hard  gentlefolks  has  to  work  to  get  hold  of  the 
knack  that  the  likes  of  us  are  born  with  ! '  How 
ever,  I  had  the  experience.  Then  the  next  thing 


68        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GAETHE. 

I  was  told  to  do  was  to  visit  the  slums.  My 
money  was  not  enough,  —  I  must  give  myself,  shed 
the  light  of  my  presence,  have  clubs,  guilds,  teach 
the  orphan  girl  to  read  and  the  orphan  boy  to  sew. 
It  has  been  a  liberal  education  to  me.  I  have  had 
to  cram  everything  except  the  alphabet  in  order  to 
keep  up  with  the  inquiring  minds  of  the  un 
educated  intellects  I  am  supposed  to  instruct. 
Finally,  this  year  I  am  in  the  '  Modern  Women ' 
movement.  We  are  studying  Ibsen.  Yesterday 
I  went  to  hear  a  lecture  on  his  heroines,  —  Nora, 
Iledda  Gabler,  and  Boletta." 

"  I  don't  read  Ibsen  myself,"  struck  in  Hartley, 
"  but  I  know  enough  about  him  from  those  who  do 
to  venture  the  hope  that  we  shall  not  hear  of  your 
running  away  from  Mr.  Challoner." 

"  I  don't  feel  sure.  The  lecture  was  given  by  a 
Miss  Eugenie  Shepard,  a  Western  woman,"  said 
Mrs.  Challoner.  "  She  told  us  that  Ibsen  was  the 
first  writer  who  had  actually  penetrated  our  prison 
house  and  discovered  how  we  are  beating  our  life 
out  against  the  iron  bars  of  custom,  convention, 
and  submission.  The  trouble  is  in  the  dualism  of 
our  natures,  which  has  made  us  —  in  the  eternal 
conflict  between  the  wish  to  be  ourselves  and  the 
wish  to  merge  ourselves  in  another  existence  —  sup 
press  our  own  individuality.  However,  the  longing 
of  release  has  risen.  Boletta  said,  4  What  is  it  to 
us  that  the  great  world  passes  our  doors?  We 
cannot  join  in  the  stream.  I  don't  see  much 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  69 

difference  between  our  life  and  that  of  the  fish  in 
the  pond  there ! '  " 

"  Poor  things  !  What  do  you  want !  To  be 
married  ?  Some  of  you  are  married,"  said  John 
Marchmont. 

"  Too  many  are  married,"  retorted  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner,  shaking  her  head.  "  Girls  have  married,  not 
because  they  are  in  love,  but  because  they  are  sick 
of  their  maiden  existences.  But  neither  Ibsen  nor 
the  lecture  encouraged  girls  in  that  course,  because 
as  wives  they  are  certain  to  have  even  a  worse 
time  and  to  be  bored  to  death  without  hope  of  re 
lease.  Now  what  all  women  to-day  long  for  and 
are  determined  at  any  cost  to  attain  is  a  chance 
to  peep  into  the  real  world,  the  world  which  they 
have  hitherto  been  forbidden  to  know  anything 
about,  — that  is,  man's  world." 

"  I  see  now,"  said  John  Marchmont,  "  what  is 
behind  some  people's  determination  to  get  into  my 
studio  by  fair  means  or  foul." 

"  It  quite  stirred  me  up,"  pursued  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner.  "  I  realized  that  marriage  had  deprived  me 
of  my  fair  chance  of  development.  I  have  always 
had  to  think  of  what  Mr.  Challoner  liked,  —  all 
my  individuality  has  been  subordinated  to  the  task 
of  pleasing  him.  I  have  simply  been  his  wife. 
Just  think  of  it !  " 

"  Just  his  wife !  Miserable  fate  !  No  wonder 
you  feel  hindered,  cramped,  thwarted." 

"  I   suddenly  experienced   new  sensations,  new 


70         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

powers,  and  longed  for  new  opportunities.  But 
how  could  I  find  them,  living  as  I  do  with  Mr. 
Challoner,  who  bribes  me  with  presents,  spoils  me, 
and  makes  me  happy  and  contented.  I  felt  quite 
in  a  rage  with  him!  For  Miss  Shepard  had 
expressly  said  that  what  kept  woman  from  de 
velopment  was  just  this  foolish  acceptance  of  her 
fate,  —  that  not  happiness,  not  content,  was  her 
duty,  but  discontent  with  the  conditions  of  her  lot. 
She  herself  ought  not  only  to  be  discontented  but 
to  make  everybody  else  discontented.  Oh,  I  did 
feel  furious  with  Mr.  Challoner !  " 

"  Ibsen  is  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  the  whole  of 
you,"  said  John  Marchmont.  "  He  says  within 
himself,  'Shakespeare's  heroines  have  been  the 
standard  of  womankind  long  enough.  Now  let  us 
have  those  who  make  not  the  charm,  the  joy, 
the  sanctity,  but  the  misery  of  mankind :  the 
unlovely,  the  unlovable,  the  sexless.' ' 

u  There  were  always  the  Regans  and  Gonerils," 
said  Garthe  ;  "always  the  furies  and  the  fates." 

Mrs.  Challoner  was  conscious  of  the  scorn  in  his 
tone. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Garthe,"  she  retorted,  "  one  sees  that 
you  have  the  true  masculine  feeling.  We  are  to 
develop  only  in  the  lines  which  please  your  taste, 
your  love  for  peace  and  quiet.  You  would  expect 
a  woman  to  be  just  simply  your  wife." 

"  Just  simply  my  wife  !  "  repeated  Garthe.  "  I 
am  not  so  presumptuous.  I  expect  nothing.  Men 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  71 

are  at  present  mere  lookers-on.  What  piques  most 
of  us  into  making  the  effort  to  go  on  living  is  the 
curiosity  to  see  where  you  are  to  bring  us." 

"  You  will  not  admit  that  we  have  an  equal  right 
with  you  to  work,  influence,  emoluments,  ambi 
tion." 

"  But  I  never  found  out  yet  that  I  had  a  right 
to  anything.  I  have  had  certain  duties  and  have 
tried  to  fulfill  them." 

"  That  is  what  we  women  want,  the  right  to  a 
common  share  of  the  duties  of  life." 

Mr.  Marchmont  was  laughing.  "  I  did  not 
know,"  he  said,  "  that  we  were  invading  your 
province." 

"  Our  province  !  You  have  n't  left  us  any.  You 
have  claimed  everything  desirable,  and  left  us  to 
keep  house  and  tend  babies." 

•'  You  do  not  want  to  keep  house  and  tend 
babies  any  longer  ?  " 

"  No,  we  do  not  want  to  keep  house  and  tend 
babies  any  longer." 

"  You  want  no  more  privileges,  no  more  protec 
tion,  no  more  domestic  sanctity  ?  " 

"  No,  we  do  not  want  any  more  privileges." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  You  want  all  your  privileges  ; 
you  want  all  your  privileges  and  men's,  too,"  said 
Mr.  Marchmont.  "And  you  shall  have  them,"  he 
added  soothingly.  But  Mrs.  Challoner  was  listen 
ing  to  what  Garthe  was  saying. 

"  I  think  you  are  right  in  feeling  that  pictures 


72        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

ought  not  to  be  shut  up  in  private  houses.  Still,  I 
sympathize  with  collectors,  for  I  admit  that  I  am 
selfish  enough  to  prefer  to  own  anything  which 
gives  me  enjoyment.  Books,  for  example  ;  when  I 
recall  a  particular  one,  I  like  to  think  of  my  own 
copy,  on  a  certain  shelf,  where  I  can  go  and  put 
my  hand  on  it,  if  need  be,  in  the  dark." 

"  And  I  dare  say,  Mr.  Garthe,  if  you  had  a 
wife,"  Mrs.  Challoner  broke  in,  "  you  would  want 
her  always  in  a  certain  place,  before  the  fire,  or  at 
a  window." 

"  Why  should  a  man  wish  to  marry  a  woman  at 
all,"  returned  Garthe,  "  except  that  he  finds  it  im 
possible  to  be  content  away  from  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see,  you  would  be  a  terrible  husband," 
said  Mrs.  Challoner,  laughing. 

"  You  describe  me  exactly." 

"  I  mean,  as  I  said  just  now,  that  you  would 
want  a  woman  to  be  just  simply  your  wife,  nothing 
else." 

"  I  certainly  do  not  consider  that  a  woman,  any 
more  than  a  man,  can  serve  two  masters,  acknow 
ledge  a  higher  and  a  lower  law." 

"  The  higher  law  would  be  devotion  to  you." 

Garthe  looked  at  her  and  smiled,  without  other 
answer. 

tk  Oh,  I  see,  "  she  exclaimed,  u  you  would  be  a 
terrible  despot." 

He  flushed.  "  I  confess,"  he  said,  "  that  I  con 
sider  a  love  of  individual  possession  what  gives 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  73 

meaning  to  our  lives.  It  is  the  test  of  our  sin 
cerity.  If  we  covet  any  object  and  do  not  try  with 
all  our  might  and  main  first  to  gain  it  and  then 
to  keep  it,  it  shows  our  half-heartedness." 

"  Don't  fall  in  love  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner. 

"  How  can  I  help  it?  "  Garthe  retorted. 

"  But  then  Mr.  Challoner  is  in  the  way.  It 's 
safer,  it 's  more  proper,  to  set  your  heart  on  some 
thing  younger,  more  disencumbered." 

"  To  the  man  who  is  looking  for  a  primrose  it 
is  no  use  to  point  to  a  bed  of  violets." 

"  You  are  very  particular.  Most  of  us  have  to 
take  what  comes  in  our  way,"  said  Mrs.  Chal 
loner,  who  liked  Garthe  better  and  better  all  the 
time. 

Constance  had  been  following  the  dialogue 
with  interest,  absorbed  in  Garthe,  in  his  looks, 
in  his  words,  in  the  meaning  behind  his  words, 
all  the  while  gathering  impressions  of  him,  and 
experiencing  more  than  once —  as  Mrs.  Chal 
loner  pressed  questions  which  must  stir  memo 
ries  more  or  less  painful  —  a  vague  uneasiness,  a 
sympathetic  alarm.  When  he  stood  the  test  with 
no  sign  of  restless  vanity,  no  poignancy  of  feeling, 
she  experienced  a  sensation  of  relief  which  was 
almost  like  a  personal  joy. 

Kathleen  was  talking  of  egoism  and  altruism. 

"  Now  Constance  wants  things  with  all  her  heart 
and  soul,"  she  observed,  "  yet  she  never  in  her  life 


74         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

felt  that  anything  belonged  to  her.  Her  jov  in 
possession  is  having  things  to  give  me." 

At  this  speech  Gar  the' s  face  lighted  up  with  a 
smile  which  flashed  first  at  Kathy,  then  spent  itself 
on  Constance. 

"  It  is  Constance  he  prefers,"  said  John  March- 
mont,  who  was  on  the  watch. 

Mrs.  Challoner  was  praising  the  salad-dressing. 
Never  had  she  tasted  such  a  mayonnaise,  she  de 
clared  :  seasoned  to  a  marvel,  at  once  cool,  pene 
trating,  and  piquant. 

"  We  were  born  so,  like  your  cook,"  explained 
Kathy.  "  We  never  went  to  a  cooking-school. 
All  that  is  necessary  is  to  know  how  to  beat,  then 
beat  and  "beat  and  beat  and  beat  all  in  one  di 
rection.  You  see,"  she  went  on  confidentially  to 
Garthe,  "  Constance  and  I  go  to  great  dinners  which 
ought  to  appall  us,  —  dinners  which  cost  almost 
anything  a  head.  But  such  extravagance  does 
not  appall  us.  In  return  we  invite  Mrs.  Challoner 
and  other  millionaires  here  to  eat  a  meal  which 
costs  nothing  in  particular.  But  everybody  seems 
to  have  just  as  good  a  time." 

"  Your  cuisine  is  exquisite,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner. 
"  Meanwhile  I  ask  for  more  of  the  mayonnaise." 

"  These  two  little  coquettes  understand  even  the 
coquetry  of  the  kitchen,"  said  John  Marchmont. 

"  It 's  all  Constance,"  said  Kathy.  "  All  the 
light,  order,  thrift,  regularity,  in  this  house  ema 
nate  from  her  ! ' 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  75 

"  Evidently,"  said  Constance,  "  Kathy  wishes 
me  to  praise  her,  but  that  is  not  necessary." 

"  Now,"  insisted  Kathy,  "  let  us  each  have  money 
in  our  purse  and  go  out.  We  come  to  a  shop  and 
see  something  I  cannot  live  without.  Constance 
says, '  Do  you  really  think  that  is  what  you  want  ? ' 
It  is  what  I  have  been  longing  for  from  the  be 
ginning  of  the  world,  I  tell  her.  I  buy  it  and 
come  home,  feeling  that  I  am  the  cleverest  woman 
in  New  York,  buying  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
moment ;  next  morning  I  wake  up  without  any 
money  in  my  purse  and  feeling  that  I  have  bought 
the  wrong  thing  at  the  wrong  moment.  Accord 
ingly,  Constance  goes  and  gets  me  what  I  need." 

"  You  describe  me  exactly,"  said  Hartley;  "  only, 
as  I  never  by  any  chance  have  any  money  in  my 
purse  to  pay  for  it,  I  have  the  bill  at  the  end  of 
the  month." 

"  I  like  running  up  bills.  And  some  people 
say,"  observed  Kathy  thoughtfully,  "  it  is  safer  to 
put  your  money  in  the  bank  and  give  checks  ;  but 
even  in  banks  money  has  a  way  of  disappearing 
mysteriously  so  that  you  can't  account  for  it.  Once 
when  I  saw  Mr.  Garner  drawing  checks  I  said  I 
could  imagine  nothing  more  delightful  than  having 
a  check-book  all  to  one's  self.  Accordingly  he 
gave  me  one,  and  put  money  in  the  bank  in  my 
name.  I  felt  like  a  capitalist.  It  was  so  nice  to 
fill  out  those  blank  forms.  I  did  it  whenever  I  had 
a  chance,  and  even  Mr.  Garner  said  I  did  it  beau- 


76        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

tifully.  But  all  at  once  when  I  was  going  on 
swimmingly  he  came  to  me,  holding  up  his  hands. 
4  My  dear  child,'  he  cried,  4  you  Ve  overdrawn  your 
account.'  I  did  not  understand  what  he  meant,  and 
he  explained  that  I  had  used  up  all  the  money,  and 
more.  I  insisted  that  it  was  impossible.  I  proved 
it,  too,  for  I  brought  the  book,  and  I  had  not  used 
more  than  half  the  checks.  I  never  could  under 
stand  how,  when  there  they  were,  the  money  was 
still  gone." 

Kathy  liked  to  fling  herself  into  her  story  bodily, 
as  it  were,  and  now,  as  she  had  probably  moved  her 
feet  in  sympathy  with  her  little  gesticulations,  she 
had  contrived  to  drop  her  slipper  under  the  table. 
Then  having  come  to  this  point,  she  blushed, 
looked  exceedingly  disconcerted,  and  went  on,  try 
ing  to  grope  and  recover  the  lost  article,  saying, 
with  quite  a  different  look,  manner,  and  voice :  - 

44  So  Mr.  Garner  took  away  my  check-book,  and 
said,  4  Buy  what  you  like,  child,  and  send  the  bills 
to  me.'  So  afterwards  I  bought  what  I  liked  and 
sent  the  bills  to  him." 

Everybody  was  gazing  at  the  speaker,  wondering 
what  had  suddenly  eclipsed  her  high  spirits. 

44  And  did  that  please  Mr.  Garner  ? "  Mrs. 
Challoner  inquired,  to  break  the  pause  that  ensued. 

44  Not  invariably,"  replied  Kathy  with  a  sigh  and 
seeming  ready  to  slip  out  of  her  chair. 

44  Nothing  about  his  wife's  expenditures  ever  does 
quite  please  a  man,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner  sooth- 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  77 

ingly,  wondering  why  the  hostess  did  not  give  the 
signal  for  the  ladies  to  rise. 

"  Perhaps  that  is  the  reason  you  all  like  Ibsen," 
Hartley  suggested. 

Still,  Kathy,  with  a  look  of  trouble  and  indeci 
sion,  writhed  in  her  chair. 

"  Well,  mamma  dear,"  said  Constance,  herself 
making  the  move ;  and  covered  with  confusion,  and 
by  the  most  desperate  effort,  Kathy  started  to  her 
feet  and,  clutching  at  Constance's  arm,  limped  to 
the  door,  passing  Mr.  Marchmont  and  Hartley,  who 
were  holding  back  the  portieres,  with  a  shyness 
which  forbade  her  to  raise  her  eyes. 

"  Mercy  on  us !  "  said  Mrs.  Challoner  as  the  ladies 
gained  the  hall.  "  What  has  happened  to  you  ?" 

For  answer  Kathy  lifted  a  little  foot  in  a  black 
silk  stocking. 

"  I  lost  it,"  she  said  tragically. 

The  men  inside  heard  Mrs.  Challoner's  peal  of 
laughter,  and  at  the  same  moment  Garthe  stooped 
and  picked  up  a  very  small  black  satin  slipper. 

"  Only  a  woman's  shoe,"  he  said,  as  he  put  it  on 
the  table,  "  but  what  a  pretty  one  !  " 

"  Well,  you  are  a  Prince  Charming.  I  hide  my 
diminished  head,"  said  Hartley.  "  That  accounts 
for  our  hostess's  embarrassment.  She  loses  every 
thing,  —  slippers,  gloves,  handkerchiefs,  hairpins, 
and  brooches.  It  comes  from  her  way  of  throwing 
herself  into  her  subject  without  being  sure  she  can 
scramble  out  again." 


78        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

John  Marchmont  looked  at  the  slipper,  quite 
staggered.  His  envy  was  palpable,  at  least  to 
Garthe. 

"  Then  her  grasp  of  finance  is  so  original," 
pursued  Hartley.  "  She  once  confided  to  me  that 
her  husband  used  to  tell  her  that  often  as  he  sup 
posed  he  had  got  to  the  very  end  of  her  ignorance, 
she  constantly  surprised  him  by  a  fresh  instance." 

"  Her  mistakes  are  charming,"  said  John  March 
mont. 

"  Oh,  I  grant  that,  — I  grant  it  easily." 

"  And  for  my  part  I  admire  a  woman  with  a 
touch  of  the  child  about  her,  who  never  quite  grows 
up." 

"She  is  quite  sufficiently  clever,"  said  Hartley. 
"  She  knows  what  piques  and  interests  and  amuses 
men." 

"  You  should  not  even  suggest  that  she  poses  as 
more  naive  and  ingenuous  than  she  is,"  insisted  John 
Marchmont  with  some  heat.  "  She  could  not  pose. 
Her  cleverness,  if  you  call  it  cleverness,  owes  every 
thing  to  its  spontaneity.  Unless  she  is  in  a  state 
of  effervescence  she  is  not  in  the  least  clever.  It 
is  only  when  she  is  bubbling  over." 

He  kept  his  eye  all  the  while  on  the  little 'high- 
heeled  satin  slipper,  and  at  a  moment  when  Hartley 
had  turned  away  contrived  to  possess  himself  of  it 
and,  with  a  quick  questioning  glance  at  Garthe, 
thrust  it  inside  his  waistcoat.  This  glance  seemed 
to  ask,  "  Do  you  claim  the  privilege  of  restoring  it 


WHEN  HALF-GODS  GO.  79 

to  her?"  Garthe  shook  his  head  with  a  little 
gesture  that  he  waived  all  right.  That  shadowy 
index  pointed  to  a  state  of  mind  which  made  it 
seem  sacrilege  to  Mr.  Marchmont  that  indifferent 
eyes  should  rest  upon  this  trophy  or  profane  hands 
touch  it.  This  jugglery  interested  Garthe,  to  whom 
it  lighted  up  much  that  he  could  not  otherwise  have 
guessed  ;  but  when  Hartley  suddenly  perceived  that 
the  slipper  was  gone  he  mistook  its  destination  and 
supposed  it  was  Garthe  who  had  appropriated  it, 
monopolizing  the  right  of  restoring  it  in  his  own 
way  and  at  his  own  time. 

This  slight  incident,  crowning  as  it  did  an  even 
ing's  experience  in  which  everything  had  shown 
him  he  no  longer  enjoyed  his  old  privileges  and 
preeminence,  gave  a  turn  to  the  scale.  The  state 
of  mind  it  evolved  in  Hartley  was  not  without 
influence  upon  his  fortunes. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    GODS    ARRIVE. 

No  matter  what  his  experience  of  life  may  have 
been,  in  a  man  of  thirty  the  germinal  principle  of 
hope  is  always  strong,  and  what  Garthe  felt  in  meet 
ing  Constance  Garner  and  in  his  sudden  impression 
of  warmth,  fragrance,  charm,  was  a  healthy  reac 
tion  from  his  apathy,  a  quick  leap  of  his  blood 
towards  freedom,  action,  and  enjoyment.  Why 
should  he,  he  now  questioned  his  conscience,  give  up 
dejectedly,  as  if  he  had  forfeited  his  right  to  a  man's 
place  in  the  world,  —  as  if  for  him  the  point  of  honor 
was  to  be  a  human  being  with  nothing  in  common 
with  other  human  beings  ?  For  six  years  he  had 
repressed  all  personal  emotions  as  if  he  had  no  in 
dividual  cravings,  wishes,  or  aspirations.  The  sense 
of  outrage  he  had  not  avenged,  of  anger  he  had  not 
vented,  of  injustice  nothing  could  set  right,  had 
separated  him  from  mankind,  had  especially  inter 
posed  a  barrier  between  him  and  all  women.  There 
had  been  always  some  fresh  work  to  throw  him 
self  into,  —  experiment,  study,  travel,  adventure, 
—  nothing  came  amiss.  His  intellect  had  been 
stimulated,  and  he  had  given  himself  no  time  to 
realize  that  he  was  debarred  from  men's  everyday 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  81 

pleasures  and  pursuits,  his  heart  was  beating  and 
his  life  passing  in  vain. 

He  had  Larry,  and  Larry  was  enough,  until 
he  met  Constance  Garner  and  everything  was 
changed.  It  was  at  first  a  troublesome  pleasure 
dearly  bought.  It  had  been  impossible  to  decline 
Mrs.  Garner's  verbal  invitation  to  dinner  given  at 
the  theatre,  and  he  had  besides  a  wish  to  meet  the 
girl  and  find  out  the  reason  of  her  wistful  glance,  — 
a  glance  which  seemed  to  question,  appeal,  recog 
nize,  and  almost,  he  might  have  said,  invite.  He 
had  made  no  advances,  but  something,  he  knew  not 
exactly  what,  of  clear  womanly  interest  betrayed 
itself  in  her  eyes,  her  smile,  her  whole  expression, 
and  she  made  no  effort  to  hide  it. 

After  he  had  seen  her  at  home  in  a  white  gown 
with  a  bunch  of  English  violets  in  the  lace  at  her 
throat,  he  was  farther  than  ever  from  forgetting  her. 
They  talked  together  of  Kathy,  of  indifferent 
things,  and  she  said  to  him :  — 

"  You  will  go  to  Mrs.  Challoner's  ?  " 

"  Since  she  is  kind  enough  to  ask  me,  I  say  to 
myself,  '  Why  not?  '  "  he  replied,  flushing  slightly. 

44  Yes,  why  not?"  she  repeated  with  some  arch 
ness. 

"  But  hitherto  I  have  said,  when  invited  to  go 
anywhere,  '  Why  should  I  ? '  " 

"  I  know,"  she  exclaimed  with  instant  sympathy. 
"  For  four  years  we  went  nowhere,  and  at  first 
we  shrank  from  it.  But  now  even  Kathy  enjoys 


82         THE  STORY   OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

the  change.  It  helps  one  to  meet  new  people,  to 
exchange  ideas,  to  have  new  thoughts." 

Garthe  flushed  again.  She  had  made  it  clear 
by  her  glance  as  well  by  her  words  that  she  was 
acquainted  with  the  outside  facts  of  his  life  ;  but  the 
very  ease  with  which  she  alluded  to  his  loneliness 
showed  that  she  considered  his  fate  nothing  out  of 
the  common. 

"  New  thoughts  may  be  very  charming,"  he  said. 

"But  you  like  old  thoughts  better?" 

"  No."  He  looked  at  her,  met  her  glance  raised 
to  his,  her  whole  face  showing  an  eagerness  to  hear 
what  he  was  to  say.  "  In  fact,  I  try  never  to  think. 
I  go  straight  on,  —  which  is  sometimes  dangerous." 

"  Dangerous  ?  " 

Her  eyes  lifted  to  his,  then  fell. 

"  But  I  shall  go  to  Mrs.  Challoner's,"  he  observed. 

"  And  to  the  studio-party  ?  " 

"  Gladly." 

Certainly,  he  said  to  himself,  if  a  man  did  not  at 
least  hazard  the  experiment,  if  his  inclination  did 
not  answer  this  soft  appeal,  this  clear  invitation, 
he  must  be  a  poor  creature. 

Meanwhile  it  was  all  for  the  sake  of  Kathleen 
that  Constance  was  offering  this  subtle  flattery  to  a 
man  whose  possibilities  of  feeling  it  was  hardly  safe 
to  gauge  by  those  of  men  like  Hartley,  men  whose 
actual  aspirations  were  towards  a  high  standard  of 
social  approval,  good  fellowship,  a  knowledge  of  the 
correct  thing  in  ties  and  coats,  a  knowingness  about 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  83 

yachts,  stables,  athletics,  and  the  gossip  of  the  town. 
Not  but  that  she  divined  very  different  qualities  in 
Garthe,  the  very  qualities  she  desired  to  enlist  in 
liking  for  Kathy ;  for  Kathy,  so  generous  herself, 
so  susceptible,  so  crystalline,  so  transparent,  so 
utterly  devoid  of  egotism  and  vanity,  so  uncon 
scious  of  her  own  prettiness,  so  irresistibly  delight 
ful  and  amusing,  her  very  folly  full  of  a  freshness 
which  never  palled ! 

In  fact  the  idea  that  Garthe  —  whose  tone,  look 
and  manner  had  roused  belief  in  her  and  laid  a 
charm  on  her  —  must  naturally  and  inevitably  fall 
in  love  with  Kathy,  and  of  course  she  with  him, 
had  instantly  fascinated  the  heart  and  head  of 
Constance. 

"  I  am  thankful  it  was  Mr.  Marchmont  and  not 
Mr.  Hartley,  or  particularly  not  Mr.  Garthe,  who 
picked  up  my  slipper,"  Kathy  had  said,  on  the  even 
ing  of  the  dinner  party,  after  the  guests  had  gone 
away.  She  sat  extending  the  tips  of  her  pointed 
toes  beyond  her  gown,  looking  down  at  them  and 
reflecting,  possibly  with  some  complacency,  upon  the 
little  ceremony  which  had  just  taken  place.  Mr. 
Marchmont,  lingering  behind  the  other  guests,  had 
produced  the  slipper,  saying  suddenly,  "  Oh,  by  the 
way,  is  this  ridiculous  little  thing  yours  ?  "  and  after 
scolding  her  for  losing  it,  had  insisted  on  kneeling 
down  and  trying  it  on,  as  if  he  were  in  doubt 
whether  hers  were  the  foot  it  fitted. 

"Why   particularly   not   Mr.  Garthe?"    asked 


84        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

Constance,  whose  secret  thought  was  perhaps  that 
he  would  have  made  the  situation  more  interesting. 

u  That  would  have  been  horrible,  horrible," 
cried  Kathy.  "  Even  with  Mr.  Marchmont  nothing 
but  the  desire  to  get  back  my  new,  pretty,  useful 
slipper  made  me  confess  that  it  was  mine." 

"People  have  lost  slippers  before,  and  people 
have  found  slippers  before ;  there  was  Cinderella 
and  Prince  Charming." 

"  But  that  could  n't  apply  to  me  and  Mr. 
Marchmont ! "  said  Kathy,  still  looking  at  the 
pointed  toes. 

"  Why  not  to  you  ?  " 

"Cinderella  was  a  young  girl,"  said  Kathy  with 
a  sigh. 

"  You  are  not  very  old.  It  always  seems  to  me 
that  I  am  older  and  more  experienced  than  you, 
and  even  I  am  not,  so  to  speak,  old.  Of  course 
Mr.  Marchmont  is  not  just  one's  ideal  of  Prince 
Charming,  but  Mr.  Garthe  might  play  the  part." 

"  Mr.  Garthe  is  not  so  very  young  or  so  very 
handsome." 

"  Not  handsome  like  Mr.  Hartley,  but  he  has  a 
striking  face." 

"Not  so  striking  as  Mr.  Marchmont's." 

"  Oh,  nobody  is  like  Mr.  Marchmont,  dear  old 
man,"  said  Constance.  "  But  Mr.  Garthe's  face  is 
full  of  quick  sympathy  and  interest.  He  is  not  a 
talker,  but  he  makes  his  presence  felt.  When 
Mr.  Hartley  used  to  come  here  so  often  he  was 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  85 

always  telling  what  he  liked  and  what  he  disliked, 
—  what  did  not  seem  easy  and  pleasant  to  him  he 
seemed  to  feel  it  not  worth  while  to  attempt  to  do. 
Now  Mr.  Garthe  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  murmured  Kathy  with  a  vague 
smile  and  sigh,  "  one  sees  that  Mr.  Garthe  is  very 
different  from  Mr.  Hartley." 

"  Mr.  Garthe,"  Constance  proceeded,  "  looks 
calm  and  proud,  yet  you  never  feel  that  he  is 
indifferent,  that  he  has  a  thought  of  his  good 
looks,  or  of  saying  something  clever.  He  is  the 
kind  of  man  who  seems  not  severe,  who  — 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Kathy,  rather  startled  by  Con 
stance's  animation,  and  transferring  her  gaze  from 
the  tips  of  her  slippers  to  the  girl's  face.  She 
seemed  never  before  to  have  had  an  adequate  per 
ception  of  its  beauty. 

"  Why,  Constance,"  she  exclaimed,  "  can  it  be 
that  you  are  just  a  little  —  a  little  bewitched  with 
this  Mr.  Garthe  ?  " 

"  I  bewitched  with  Mr.  Garthe  ? "  Constance 
repeated  gayly.  "  Well,  no,  Kathy  dear,  I  shall 
never  do  anything  so  unpractical  as  to  suffer  myself 
to  be  bewitched  with  men  who  are  in  love  with  you." 

Kathy  shrank  away  like  a  child  struck  a  blow, 
and  her  face  flamed. 

"  In  love  with  me  ?  "  she  said  incredulously. 

"  Have  I  not  eyes  ?  Have  I  not  ears  ?  He 
stood  and  talked  about  you  after  he  came  in  from 
the  dining-room." 


86        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GsUlTHE. 
"What  did    he    say?"    asked   Kathy   breath- 


"He  said  that  you  carried  round  a  visible  au 
reole." 

"  He  only  meant  my  hair." 

"  He  said  you  had  the  most  delightful  voice." 

"He  hadn't  heard  Mr.  Marchmont  tell  how 
when  I  first  came  North  I  used  to  say  4  It  has  just 
done  come  struck  twelve  o'clock.' ' 

"  He  asked  if  he  might  call  on  our  Tuesdays." 

"  But  everybody  comes  on  our  Tuesdays." 

"  And  he  is  going  to  Mrs.  Challoner's,  although 
it  has  been  his  way  never,  never  to  go  out." 

Kathy  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  "  I  don't  think 
he  is  going  to  Mrs.  Challoner's  to  see  me,"  she 
observed. 

"  Of  course  I  cannot  give  an  idea  of  the  feeling 
behind  his  words,"  Constance  exclaimed.  "  I  saw 
his  glance  rest  on  you,  I  -  She  broke  oft0, 
feeling  that  she  was  possibly  passing  the  limits  of 
wise  discretion,  and  for  a  few  minutes  both  were 
silent. 

"  Constance,"  Kathy  murmured  after  a  pause, 
her  features  showing  that  there  was  some  conflict 
of  mind  going  on. 

"Well,  dear?" 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  I  am  ready  to  hear  it." 

"  You  will  answer  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  I  can." 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  87 

"  Solemnly,  I  mean ;  not  out  of  any  idea  of 
pleasing  or  displeasing  me,  but  out  of  your  heart 
and  soul,  out  of  your  religious  convictions." 

Constance  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Of  course  I  will.  Not  that  my  opinion  is 
worth  having." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is.  You  are  cleverer  than  I  am, 
Constance.  Then  besides,  you  are  always  the 
same.  You  keep  your  head.  If  you  believe  in  a 
thing  to-day  you  believe  in  it  to-morrow,  while  if 
I  go  to  bed  with  one  idea  on  a  subject  I  am  sure  to 
wake  up  thinking  just  the  contrary." 

"  I  don't  judge  so  highly  of  my  own  wisdom," 
said  Constance  humbly,  recalling  the  mistakes  she 
had  made,  —  "  but  tell  me  what  it  is,  Kathy." 

"  Half  a  dozen  times,"  faltered  Kathy,  with  tears 
coming  to  her  eyes,  "  it  has  been  on  the  tip  of  my 


tongue.' 


"  Let  me  hear  it." 

"  You  understand  that  you  are  to  be  sincere." 

"  Absolutely  sincere." 

"  Of  course  you  will  not  fancy  it  has  reference 
to  anybody  in  particular,  —  it  is  a  mere  general 
question." 

"  I  had  taken  it  for  granted  it  was  to  be  some 
thing  about  yourself." 

"Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Kathy,  horror  struck  at  the 
suggestion.  "  I  should  die  before  I  would  ask 
such  a  question  about  myself." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  —  of  course   then  I  shall 


88        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

know  it  has  no  reference  to  you  whatever,"  said 
Constance,  growing  more  and  more  eager. 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  ask  it  now,"  answered  Kathy 
mournfully. 

"Oh,  but  — Kathy!" 

"  Not  now  ;  as  it  is,  I  feel  ready  to  sink  through 
the  floor." 

But  upheld,  encouraged,  and  inspired  by  Con 
stance's  sympathy,  she  was  finally  induced  to 
reconsider,  and  to  begin.  "  Do  you  think  —  " 
then  she  broke  off.  "  Dear,  should  you  mind  just 
for  one  minute  not  staring  hard  at  me  ?  "  After 
a  brief  pause,  —  "Do  you  think,"  she  went  on  with 
more  resolution,  "  that  —  it  —  is  —  right  —  for  — 
widows  —  to  —  marry  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Constance  with  instant  decision. 

"  Really  ?  "  murmured  Kathy,  incredulous.  "  Do 
you  really  consider  it  right  ?  " 

Her  conscience  thus  addressed,  Constance  halted 
a  little. 

Then  after  a  pause  she  said,  "  I  '11  tell  you, 
Kathy.  If  a  woman  has  made  an  ideally  perfect 
marriage,  —  if  she  has  been  deeply  and  truly  in 
love  with  her  husband  and  he  with  her,  and  they 
have  had  a  really  ]>erfect  happiness,  why  then, 
unless  there  was  some  powerful  reason,  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  as  if  - 

"  As  if  she  ought  to  marry  again,"  said  Kathy. 
Her  lips  quivered  slightly  ;  she  seemed  half  stifled. 
"  I  was  sure  that  would  be  the  way  you  felt  about 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  89 

it,"  she  added,  "  and  I  'in  sure  you  are  quite  right.  I 
have  great  faith  in  your  judgment,  Constance,  and 
I  —  I  just  like  to  have  questions  settled  beyond  the 
reach  of  controversy.  It  is  so  confusing  to  have  two 
sides  to  things.  Just  fancy,  suppose  we  could  n't 
be  certain  about  the  Ten  Commandments,  but  had 
to  argue  the  matter  every  time  a  temptation  came 
up." 

"  But  you  did  not  understand  me,  Kathy,"  said 
Constance.  "It  is  only  in  certain  cases  that  it 
seems  to  me  wrong  for  a  widow  to  marry.  When 
she  has  been  absolutely  happy  —  when  — 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Kathy  resignedly,  "  that  is 
my  case.  No  woman  was  ever  so  happy  as  I  was." 

"  I  know,"  faltered  Constance,  "  but,  Kathy 
dear,  —  you  had  no  children." 

"I  have  you,  Constance,"  said  Kathy  with 
caressing  sweetness.  "  I  could  n't  love  you  better 
if  you  were  my  own  daughter."  Still  with  all 
this  sweetness  and  philosophy  there  were  signs  of 
some  conflict  of  feeling  in  her  face. 

"  Of  course,"  Constance  said,  with  clear  com 
punctions,  "  I  should  not  wish  you  to  marry  again 
unless  you  had  some  great  inducement,  —  unless  a 
second  marriage  were  to  give  you  what  you  had 
hitherto  missed." 

"  I  did  not  miss  anything,"  cried  Kathy,  with 
poignant  feeling. 

"  I  have  sometimes  felt  that  you  must  have 
missed  something  in  marrying  a  man  so  far  beyond 


90        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

your  own  age,"  said  Constance  in  the  softest  voice. 
"  Of  course  I  know  that  you  were  happy  with  papa, 
—  of  course  I  know  he  loved  you  — 

"  He  loved  me  dearly,"  interrupted  Kathy  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Of  course  I  never  could  feel 
that  he  cared  for  me  just  as  he  had  cared  for  your 
mother;  I  was  too  young  and  foolish." 

"  What  I  mean  is  that  one  can  be  young  only 
once, —  can  have  an  emotion  for  the  first  time  only 
once.  Papa  had  had  his  life  ;  he  had  made  his 
career ;  he  did  not  care  for  things  which  amused 
you,  but  liked  to  sit  by  and  look  on  and  see  you 
enjoy.  Don't  you  remember  how  it  was  to  me  you 
turned  for  real  sympathy  ?  " 

44 1  liked  him  to  sit  by  and  look  on.  I  was  very 
happy." 

"  He  was  so  much  older  than  you." 

"  I  should  n't  have  liked  him  half  so  well  if  he 
had  been  younger,"  said  Kathy.  "  Nobody  I  ever 
saw  or  heard  of  was  half  as  happy  as  I  was,  and 
I  see  now  that  it  could  never  be  right  for  me  even 
to  think  of  marrying  again." 

She  had  not  the  look  or  manner  of  a  woman  who 
has  a  great  deal  at  stake,  and  Constance  thought  it 
as  well  not  to  debate  the  point.  Kathy  had  con 
fessed  that  it  was  her  way  to  go  to  bed  dominated 
by  one  view  of  a  question  and  to  wake  up  convinced 
on  the  opposite  side.  Evidently  she  had  begun  to 
think  of  the  possibility  of  marrying  again,  and  it 
was  not  strange  that  she  should  have  at  least  a 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  91 

momentary  fit  of  remorse,  for  she  was  looking  for 
ward  ardently  to  meeting  Garthe  at  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner's  and  at  the  studio-party. 

Bowhill,  as  Mr.  Marchmont's  place  was  called,  was 
about  twelve  miles  out  of  town.  The  artist  had  some 
twenty  years  before  put  up  a  sort  of  lodge  in  the 
woods,  consisting  of  a  single  large  room  for  a  summer 
studio,  and  to  this  he  had  gradually  added  a  porch, 
an  entrance  hall,  dining-room,  and  bedrooms,  so 
that  he  finally  had  a  very  pretty,  rambling,  and  pic 
turesque  house  in  a  pleasant  country  with  plenty 
of  agreeable  neighbors,  at  least  in  summer  time, 
for  the  town  had  expanded  in  his  direction.  He 
had  painted  a  good  many  pictures  in  his  early  life, 
but  now-a-days  kept  a  canvas  on  his  easel  a  long 
time,  finding  it  a  difficult  matter  to  feel  that  his 
work  was  finished  ;  refining  on  his  idea  with  endless 
touchings  and  retouchings, —  feeling  more  and  more 
that  he  was  not  quite  master  of  his  own  imagina 
tion.  He  no  longer  needed  to  work  for  money, 
and,  without  that  powerful  incentive,  art  for  art's 
sake  made  him  lose  a  good  many  hours  in  reverie 
over  the  achievements  of  greater  men  than  himself 
who  had  done  so  easily  what  he  longed  to  do  and 
could  not.  He  passed  too  many  of  his  days  in  end 
less  musings  over  his  easel  or  the  fire,  in  pacings  to 
and  fro.  Kathleen  Garner  was  spoiling  his  exist 
ence,  no  doubt  of  that.  She  was  perpetually  in 
his  thoughts ;  at  every  turn,  thoughts,  aspirations, 
schemes,  connected  with  her,  leaped  into  life.  She 


92         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

could  so  easily  put  order,  beauty,  and  logic  into  his 
life,  and  yet  at  present  she  caused  him  only  con 
fusion  of  mind  and  purpose. 

How  young  she  was  !  how  young  everybody  was, 
he  said  to  himself  the  day  of  his  studio  tea,  as 
he  watched  the  group  approaching  through  his 
grounds.  It  was  a  clear,  cold,  crisp  winter's  after 
noon.  The  ground  was  frozen,  and  generally  bare, 
although  here  and  there  were  patches  of  snow 
and  ice.  Kathleen  Garner  and  Lawrence  Garthe 
were  leading  the  way,  the  former  in  a  seal-skin 
jacket,  cap  and  muff,  her  cheeks  and  lips  rosy 
as  a  child's  and  her  eyes  full  of  light.  Mrs. 
Challoner,  who  was  chaperoning  the  party,  and  who 
had  thought  it  worth  while  to  add  half  a  dozen  young 
people  to  the  original  group  invited,  in  order  to  have 
the  affair  go  off  well,  was,  he  said  to  himself,  his 
only  contemporary. 

"  How  young  and  happy  you  all  look,"  was  his 
exclamation  as  he  received  them  at  the  door  of  his 
studio.  "  Come  in,  come  in.  There  is  my  Cazin, 
Mrs.  Challoner." 

The  room  resembled  a  shrine,  rather  than  the 
museum  of  art  objects,  tapestries  and  curios,  which, 
combining  in  an  orgy  of  dazzling  color,  make 
up  the  popular  idea  of  a  painter's  studio.  An  air 
of  purity,  of  severity,  of  classic  order  prevailed. 
There  was  no  jumble.  The  Cazin  had  an  alcove 
almost  to  itself  along  with  a  quiet  landscape  of 
Daubigny's  and  a  mellow  sunset  behind  a  row  of 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  93 

poplars  edging  a  pond,  by  Corot.  There  were  four 
of  these  alcoves,  lighted  by  large  windows  opening 
on  beautiful  views,  each  alcove  containing  some 
distinguishing  picture  or  series  of  sketches,  and 
three  or  four  seats  for  a  group  of  people  to  sit  down. 
In  the  main  body  of  the  room  were  casts  of  the 
works  of  the  great  sculptors,  and  then  towards  the 
north  was  a  platform  with  a  cold  white  light,  and 
to-day  set  out  with  two  or  three  completed  pictures 
on  the  easels. 

"  They  say  they  like  my  studio,"  Mr.  Marchmont 
observed  to  Garthe,  "  but  I  doubt  if  they  do.  The 
fashion  of  the  town  is  for  gaudy  effects,  whereas  I 
must  have  cool  color  and  the  perfect  line  to  con 
tent  and  tranquilize  me." 

The  two  men  were  standing  together  while  the 
other  groups  distributed  themselves  about  the 
alcoves  or  fluttered  about  before  the  easels,  admir 
ing,  discussing,  chattering,  and  laughing. 

"  You  live  here  alone  ?  "  said  Garthe. 

"  I  live  here  all  alone  for  some  nine  months 
of  the  year  ;  then  after  Christmas  go  to  town  until 
Easter.  I  built  first  the  square  room  with  windows 
to  the  north,  then  I  added  a  bedroom  and  a  kitchen, 
then  a  porch  and  a  hall,  and  a  dining-room  ;  finally 
a  library  and  bedrooms  round  the  gallery  above. 
It  has  grown  out  of  an  idea  that  I  wanted  a  bit  of 
solitude,  and  has  surprised  me  by  what  it  has  de 
veloped  into,  as  many  of  my  ideas  do,  seeming  to 
have  a  lease  of  life  quite  independent  of  me,  like 
children  of  the  parents  who  beget  them." 


94         THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  You  never  married,  I  believe,"  said  Garthe. 

"  No ;  at  the  time  of  life  when  men  think  of 
marrying  I  had  my  mother  and  a  sister  ten  years 
younger  than  myself  always  with  me ;  I  had,  be 
sides,  my  art,  —  indeed,  I  ought  to  say,  chiefly  my 
art,  for  I  was  intoxicated  with  my  work.  I  lived  in 
it,  I  cared  little  or  nothing  for  anything  else ;  it 
was  completely  satisfying.  What  tormented  me 
in  women  was  not  my  longing  to  call  one  of  them 
Mrs.  John  Marchmont,  but  to  transfer  the  soul  of 
her  beauty  to  canvas, —  and  that  it  is  not  an  easy 
matter  to  do." 

"  No,  —  I  suppose  men  are  better  subjects." 

"  Not  if  a  woman  is  identified  with  an  idea.  Of 
course  nothing  is  so  charming  as  a  blooming  young 
girl,  but  no  artist,  who  understands  the  limitations 
of  art,  cares  to  undertake  her  unless  lie  can  put  her 
into  an  Annunciation  or  make  her  a  sibyl  or  a  saint, 
or  show  in  her  a  presentiment  of  early  death.  It 
is  human  personality  one  demands  in  a  portrait, 
the  subtle,  the  spiritual  side  of  the  subject.  A 
child  is  always  good  material,  but  women  have 
almost  no  artistic  character  at  all  until  they  have 
found  out  what  life  is,  what  suffering  is,  and  what 
submission  is.  I  saw  a  woman,  as  I  waited  before 
the  gate  at  the  railway  station  the  other  day,  and 
I  could  not  get  her  out  of  my  head  until  I  had 
made  twenty  sketches  of  her.  She  could  n't  have 
been  more  than  thirty,  but  you  saw  on  the  instant 
that  she  had  been  through  every  sort  of  experience  ; 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  95 

had  loved,  been  married,  had  had  children,  and,  no 
doubt,  lost  some  ;  for,  from  the  beautiful  submissive 
lines  about  her  mouth,  she  had  known  grief,  had 
eaten  her  bread  with  tears,  had  not  only  wept  but 
despaired,  had  been  conquered  by  life,  and  yet  she 
had  conquered.  Leonard  might  have  painted  her 
as  a  pendant  to  the  Gioconda  —  for  this  woman, 
too,  smiled  ;  smiled  with  an  unfathomable  smile  of 
sweetness  and  serenity." 

"  Fair  or  dark  ?  "  asked  Garthe. 

"  Fair,  —  hair  of  pure  gold.  She  had  not  aged, 
she  had  only  lived"  he  sighed.  "  She  was  emi 
nently  pictorial,"  he  added. 

"  And  you  could  not  follow  her.  could  not  find 
out  who  she  was,  could  not  induce  her  to  sit  for 
you?" 

"  No,  I  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass ;  our  eyes  met, 
and  the  chance  was  over.  No  doubt  she  still  recalls 
me  as  the  old  man  who  stared  at  her  as  we  stood 
together  by  the  gate  waiting  to  have  the  official 
punch  our  tickets.  I  only  hope  the  right  sort  of 
fellow  sits  down  opposite  her  at  table,  but  I  am 
afraid." 

"  It  is  something  in  the  way  of  an  experience," 
Garthe  said  slowly  and  reluctantly  as  if  the  words 
were  forced  from  him,  "  for  a  man  to  see  the  idea 
of  a  woman  which  he  has  cherished  in  his  deepest 
instincts,  venerated  in  his  soul,  and  looked  forward 
to  as  his  chance  of  salvation,  clothed  in  visible, 
tangible  beauty." 


96        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  I  had  n't  that  feeling  at  all,"  John  Marchmont 
made  haste  to  say.  u  I  should  like  to  paint  her 
portrait,  or  to  put  her  in  a  group  at  the  foot  of  the 
crucifix  as  the  mother  of  God,  but  — 

"  It  is  another  woman  you  wish  to  have  sit  op 
posite  you  at  table,"  said  Garthe,  smiling  and 
thinking  of  the  slipper  episode. 

"  Quite  another  woman,"  said  John  Marchmont. 
"  Suppose  we  go  and  ask  Constance  Garner  for  a 
cup  of  tea." 

The  tea-table  was  spread  in  the  great  hall,  on  the 
table  by  the  chimney  corner.  Mrs.  Challoner  and 
Constance  were  dividing  the  honors,  and  Kathleen, 
sharing  the  duties,  brought  a  cup  of  tea  in  each 
hand,  offering  them  to  Mr.  Marchmont  and  Garthe. 

"Is  the  party  going  off  to  suit  you,  madam?" 
the  artist  inquired. 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Kathleen.  She  glanced  at  Garthe. 
"  It  was  pleasant,  was  it  not,  Mr.  Garthe,  coming 
out  on  the  train  ?  " 

k'  It  was  charming,"  returned  Garthe,  who  had 
taken  the  cup  of  tea,  but,  without  tasting  it,  stood 
looking  wistfully  at  the  tea-table,  or  at  the  girl  who 
presided  at  the  samovar. 

"  Then  the  walk  here,"  Kathy  pursued.  u  It  was 
like  coming  through  a  great  park,  and  the  wind 
roared  in  the  trees  like  a  fugue  of  Bach's.  Did 
you  not  enjoy  it,  Mr.  Garthe  ?  " 

"  Very  much,"  returned  Garthe  absently,  his  eyes 
fastened  on  Constance,  who  had  risen  from  her  seat 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  97 

"  Some  affairs  seem  to  me  so  long,"  Kathleen 
pursued ;  "  but  now  I  am  hating  to  see  the  sun  go 
down.  I  do  not  want  this  day  to  end." 

Garthe  had  turned  to  her  an  instant  with  a  daz 
zling  smile. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  and  like  a  flash  darted 
forward  and  vanished. 

"  There,  he  has  gone !  "  said  Mr.  Marchmont 
in  an  odd  voice.  "  You  have  nobody  left  but  me." 

Kathy  gazed  after  the  fugitive  with  a  sort  of 
bewilderment. 

"Young  men  are  so  —  so  odd,"  she  observed. 
"  I  don't  think  I  like  them." 

"  Garthe  evidently  wished  to  speak  to  Constance," 
said  Mr.  Marchmont  soothingly.  "  He  will  come 
back." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  wish  him  to  come  back  particu 
larly,"  said  Kathleen.  "I  am  so  hungry  I  feel  like 
sitting  down  and  eating  sandwiches  and  buttered 
muffins  and  scones,  and  with  you  I  do  not  mind." 

"  No,  there  is  that  comfort  in  an  old  fellow  like 
me ;  he  does  not  count  any  more  than  one's  grand 
mother." 

"  I  like  it,"  said  Kathleen,  sinking  among  the 
cushions  of  the  chimney-corner  seat.  Mr.  March 
mont  drew  a  low  table  before  her,  and  transferring 
to  it  a  fair  share  of  the  contents  of  the  general  tea- 
table,  endeavored  at  least  to  satisfy  her  physical 
hunger.  "  I  like  it,"  she  said  again,  smiling  at  him. 
"  You  take  such  good  care  of  me." 


98        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  Old  dogs  are  apt  to  be  well  trained,"  he  an 
swered,  sitting  down  beside  her. 

"  I  don't  think,"  murmured  Kathleen,  half  in 
reverie,  "that  I  quite  understand  young  men. 
Now  there  was  Mr.  Hartley  —  " 

"  Yes ;  by  the  way,  Hartley  has  not  come.  I 
think  a  card  from  him  arrived  by  post." 

"  We  hardly  ever  see  him  now,"  said  Kathleen. 
"  He  stopped  coming  all  at  once.  For  a  year,  when 
the  door-bell  rang,  we  would  say  to  each  other, 
4  There  is  Mr.  Hartley,'  and  the  door  opened  and 
there  he  was.  Then  suddenly  —  "  she  mused  smil 
ingly,  flushed  slightly,  and  added  hastily,  "  I  sup 
pose  he  found  something  pleasanter  to  do." 

Mr.  Marchmont,  vaguely  troubled  in  his  con 
science,  looked  at  her  lovely  wistful  eyes,  the  mean 
ing  of  their  glance  enhanced  by  the  blue  circle 
beneath.  Any  one  looking  into  their  depths  must 
feel  the  absolute  candor  and  simplicity  of  her 
nature ;  yet  with  all  her  goodness  and  sincerity 
she  seemed  to  him  enigmatical. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  missed  Hartley,"  he  ob 
served. 

"  Oh,  no ;  "  her  face  lighted  up,  —  "  for  just  then 
Mr.  Garthe  came." 

"  You  like  Garthe  better." 

"  A  great  deal  better.  Still  —  "  she  paused  as 
she  took  a  fresh  muffin.  "  I  don't  think,"  she  ob 
served,  "  that  I  quite  understand  young  men.  You 
see,"  she  added,  with  a  flash  of  insight,  "  I  did 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  99 

not  have  my  innings  as  a  girl.  I  had  no  chance  to 
go  to  balls ;  I  never  had  my  fair  share  of  lovers,  — 
there  are  no  young  men  at  the  South  to  fall  in  love, 
so  that  I  had  no  experience." 

"  You  had  one  lover,  —  apparently  an  effective 
one." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  whom  you  mean,"  said  Kath 
leen,  puzzled. 

"  Of  course  I  mean  the  man  you  married,  who 
carried  you  off  at  an  age  when  most  girls  have  not 
put  up  their  hair." 

"  I  do  not  call  him  a  lover.  That  was  different. 
Bernard  was  Bernard." 

Mr.  Marchmont  considered  this  rather  charming. 

"  Bernard  was  Bernard,  —  evidently  something 
quite  out  of  the  commonplace  category." 

"Yes,  Bernard  was  Bernard,"  affirmed  Kathy, 
with  a  pink  flush  rising  to  her  face.  "  So  I  went 
into  society  first  as  a  married  woman.  I  was  a 
matron  all  at  once.  I  was  taken  out  to  dinner  by 
all  the  old  gentlemen,  and  oh,"  with  a  grimace, 
"  how  some  old  gentlemen  can  prose !  " 

"  Oh,  can't  they !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Marchmont 
with  a  visible  shudder.  "  I  beg  of  you  to  draw 
a  veil  over  their  infirmities.  Such  an  allusion 
strikes  home." 

"  I  hope,"  Garthe  had  said  as  he  .found  Con 
stance  sitting  alone  quietly  in  the  alcove  which 
contained  the  new  picture,  "that  you  will  accept 


100      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

this  cup  of  tea  to  cheer  your  solitude,"  and  he  ex 
tended  the  untouched  cup  he  still  carried  in  his 
hand. 

44  That  is  the  very  cup  I  made  for  you,  that  I 
sent  to  you  by  Kathy,"  said  Constance.  She  was 
smiling.  The  occasion  had  been  to  her  a  pleasant 
one.  She  and  Garthe  had  not  hitherto  spoken  that 
day  except  to  exchange  greetings,  but  she  had 
seen  him  with  Kathleen  and  both  had  worn  an  air 
of  enjoyment.  "  It  is  very  ungrateful  of  you  to 
give  it  away." 

44  Not  to  be  ungrateful,"  returned  Garthe,  and 
drank  the  tea. 

44  Rather  cold,  I  fear,  by  this  time,"  suggested 
Constance. 

44  Rather  cold  and  rather  sweet,"  said  Garthe. 
44  But  now  that  I  have  swallowed  it,  may  I  sit  down 
with  you  and  look  at  the  Cazin  ?  " 

44  Where  is  Kathleen?" 

44  Mrs.  Garner  ?  Oh,  surrounded,  as  usual.  It 
would  be  of  no  use  for  me  to  try  to  get  in  a  word. 
You  gay  people  have  so  much  to  say  to  each  other, 
I  feel  a  clod  compared  with  you.  On  the  way  out 
we  all  laughed  irresistibly  over  such  incredibly 
droll  stories.  Some  man  had  dressed  in  a  hurry 
to  go  out  to  dinner,  and  on  arriving  had  found  him 
self  with  one  low  shoe  and  silk  stocking,  and  one 
high  walking  boot  and  woolen  sock.  But  that  was 
nothing  to  another  man  who  had  gone  out  to  Tux 
edo  to  stay  over  night  for  a  ball ;  and  instead  of 


THE  GODsS  ATtJtWZ.' 

having  his  full  complement  of  evening  clothes,  was 
short  in  some  important  particular.  The  story  of 
his  various  attempts  to  make  up  the  deficiency  was 
so  amusing,  and  so  stimulating,  that  we  all  ran 
sacked  our  brains  to  recall  some  equally  exquisite 
incident." 

Constance  looked  at  him  with  the  expression  in 
her  face  which  he  had  come  by  this  time  to  know 
well ;  it  was  made  up  o'f  observation,  curiosity,  a 
clear  and  definite  desire  to  understand  what  he 
said  and  what  he  felt. 

"  Trifles  amuse  one  when  one  is  happy,"  she  said. 

"  Yes ;  and  to-day  I  was  amused.  I  have  been 
very  light-hearted  of  late,  when  one  considers  that 
a  while  ago  I  thought  I  had  not  a  ray  of  hope  in 
my  heart." 

She  looked  at  him  in  silence,  her  beautiful  eyes 
full  of  sympathy.  She  longed  to  say  something 
about  Kathleen,  but  perhaps  it  was  enough  that  he 
was  clearly  thinking  of  her. 

"  I  get  up  in  the  morning,  now-a-days,  with  a  feel 
ing  that  something  pleasant  is  going  to  happen, 
and  it  happens,"  said  Garthe.  "  It  has  all  been  in 
teresting  to-day,  for  even  while  I  laugh  a  little  at 
the  talk  that  goes  on,  it  is  diverting  ;  and  when 
anybody  tells  simply  what  they  know  and  what  has 
happened,  nobody  is  bored.  But  now,  —  let  me 
sit  down  with  you  and  look  at  the  Cazin." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Constance.  "  I  am  looking  at 
the  sunset,  too,  out-of-doors." 


1(>2;     THE  STORY  OF.  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  Yes,  the  sunset." 

Each,  turning  as  they  spoke,  uttered  an  exclama 
tion.  There  was  the  little  new  moon  shining  clear 
above  the  mellow  crimson  and  golden  glow  of  the 
west. 

"  I  like  to  see  the  new  moon  over  my  right 
shoulder,"  said  Constance.  "It  is  my  one  super 
stition." 

"  So  it  is  mine.  Let  Us  accept  the  augury." 
He  glanced  at  her.  uls  there  anything  you  de 
sire  very  much  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  little  glimmer 
of  a  smile  which,  for  some  inexplicable  reason,  she 
found  it  a  difficult  matter  to  meet. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  dropping  her  eyes.  "  I 
wish  something  very  much." 

"  I  am  thirty  years  old,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  I  thought  I  had  got  over  that  childish  sort  of  pas 
sion  ;  but  I  find  myself  now-a-days  longing  for  some 
thing,  like  a  beggar  for  food  and  raiment."  She 
longed  to  shake  off  an  influence  which  seemed 

O 

more  and  more  to  bind  her ;  she  must  surely  have 
something  to  say  about  Kathy,  but  she  could  not 
speak.  "  Look  just  there,"  he  went  on,  "  just 
where  those  oak  trees  show  their  branches  against 
the  west." 

"  I  see  only  the  sky,"  she  said,  fixing  her  eyes  in 
the  direction  he  had  indicated. 

"  Look  steadily  a  moment." 

"  Oh,  yes  I  "  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  and  glanced 
at  him,  her  face  radiant.  Where  there  had  been, 


THE  GODS  ARRIVE.  103 

a  moment  before,  only  the  mellow  blending  of  the 
sunset  colors  into  the  violet  above,  and  where  the 
most  intent  gaze  could  discern  nothing,  suddenly, 
as  if  newly  created,  a  point  of  brightness  had  come. 
It  was  the  evening  star. 

Garthe  sighed. 

"  Mr.  Marchmont  is  a  fine  fellow,"  he  observed. 
"  I  like  him." 

"  I  love  him." 

"  Enviable  man,  all  round.  To  begin  with,  this 
is  a  pleasant  house." 

"  Is  n't  it?  It  is  just  my  idea  of  a  house.  Each 
window  in  it  is  just  more  delightful  than  the  others. 
Sometimes  in  summer  we  come  here  with  Mrs. 
Challoner  and  stay  a  week.  I  have  the  room  above 
this,  and  although  one  has  only  a  glimpse  of  the 
river  here,  there  one  sees  it  all  round  the  bluff, 
and  the  pine  wood  as  well." 

"  You  love  the  country  ?  You  would  like  to  live 
in  the  country  ?  "  Garthe  asked  in  the  softest  voice 
in  the  world. 

"  It  would  make  me  perfectly  happy  to  live  in 
the  country.  I  always  go  away  from  ifc,  my  eyes 
unsatisfied  with  seeing  and  my  ears  with  hearing." 

"  I  know  the  sensation,"  said  Garthe,  smiling.  "  I 
like  that  phrase." 

"  Do  you  like  the  country  so  well  ?  " 

"  Hitherto  I  have  preferred  cities,  —  that  is, 
unless  I  can  have  really  wild  nature." 

"  Kathy  loves  the  town  and  everything  belonging 


104       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

to  it,"  said  Constance.  "She  says  she  had  too 
much  of  the  country  as  a  child ;  that  it  means, 
now-a-days,  separation  from  what  she  loves  best. 
When  we  are  away,  she  declares  that  she  pines  for 
pavements,  noise,  crowds,  hurry,  and  dust,  and  that 
when  she  comes  back,  she  longs  to  embrace  the 
first  policeman  she  sees.  But  then,"  Constance 
added  hastily,  as  if  fearful  of  having  given  a  wrong 
impression,  "she  is  equally  happy  and  at  home 
everywhere.  She  lives,  actually,  in  her  affections  ; 
but  unluckily  she  has  nothing  except  me  to  spend 
them  on." 

"  Has  she  no  family  ?  " 

"  She  was  an  only  child,  and  lost  her  mother 
veiy  early,  and  it  was  when  papa  found  her  all 
alone,  after  her  father's  death,  when  he  had  gone 
to  Virginia  to  attend  to  some  of  his  business  as  ex 
ecutor,  that  he  fell  in  love,  married  her  at  once, 
and  brought  her  to  New  York." 

Garthe  drew  her  on  to  more  intimate  confidences. 
She  withheld  nothing  which  could  show  him  how 
happy  they  had  been  together,  how  beyond  all 
others  Kathy  was  dear,  lovable,  good,  and  amusing, 
putting  charm  into  whatever  she  undertook.  She 
little  comprehended  how,  in  each  touch  with  which 
she  painted  another,  she  was  expressing  herself  to 
Garthe's  perceptions.  All  at  once  came  a  sum 
mons  from  Mrs.  Challoner,  news  that  everybody 
was  going  back  to  town. 

"  Is  it  over  ?"  murmured  Garthe  as  if  incredulous. 


THE  GODS  AERIVE.  105 

"And  I  have  kept  you  here,"  said  Constance 
remorsefully.  "  Why  did  I  let  you  stay  ?  Why 
did  you  run  away  from  the  others  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  let  me  stay  ?  "  he  asked,  looking 
at  her  with  a  direct  glance.  "  Why  did  I  run 
away  from  the  others  ?  You  know  —  you  must 
know  —  that  I  came  to-day  simply  to  see  you,  — 
that  my  only  object  in  going  anywhere  is  to  be 
with  you.  I  think  of  nothing  else." 


CHAPTER  V. 

HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE. 

"A  WIDOW,  is  she  ?  "  said  Ferdinand  Hartley. 

"Let  us  call  her  a  widow.  Sometimes  it  is  just 
as  well  not  to  be  too  precise.  If  she  does  not  lay 
up  her  husbands  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  she  yet 
gets  rid  of  them  in  some  decent  fashion.  She 
comes  from  a  region  where  divorces  grow  on  every 
bush." 

"Oh,  divorced?" 

"  I  have  no  reason  for  saying  that  she  is  di 
vorced,  only  that  somehow  she  seems  to  me  not  to 
have  the  rig  of  a  widow.  I  have  not  inquired 
about  the  late  Hernandez,  and  I  may  be  doing  her 
an  injustice." 

"  Your  brother  ought  to  have  found  out  some 
thing  about  her  private  history.'* 

"  He  found  out  sufficient  for  his  purpose,  and  he 
no  doubt  thinks  that  it 's  well  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
sufficient,"  said  Joseph  Koylance,  a  somewhat  pre 
cise,  cautious  man  who  went  into  no  matter  whose 
depth  he  had  not  tested.  "  She  brought  him  letters 
from  his  Pacific  Coast  correspondent  which  have 
been  properly  authenticated.  She  possesses  un 
doubted  securities,  many  of  them  in  the  name  of 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      107 

Aurelio  Hernandez ;  and  her  own  signature,  Anna 
Isabella  Hernandez,  is  good  for  almost  any  amount." 

"She  must  be  rich,"  mused  Hartley. 

"  No  more  doubt  about  her  being  rich  than  there 
is  about  her  being  young  and  good-looking." 

"What  is  she  doing  here  in  New  York  all 
alone?" 

"  She  is  not  alone.  She  has  a  companion,  a 
Miss  Shepard,  who  is  not  an  ordinary  sheep-dog, 
but  a  woman  with  a  career ;  wants  to  reform  some 
thing  ;  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  it  is  she  wants  to 
reform, —  perhaps  men.  God  knows,  some  of  us 
need  it.  Any  doubts  about  the  unimpeachable  re 
spectability  of  Mrs.  Hernandez  will  die  a  natural 
death  the  moment  you  see  Miss  Shepard.  You 
could  n't  touch  her  with  a  ten-foot  pole." 

"  It  all  seems  odd,  out  of  the  way.  I  should  like 
to  understand  clearly  what  brings  Mrs.  Hernandez 
to  New  York." 

"  You  are  mighty  particular  all  of  a  sudden.  As 
a  rule  it  is  not  I  but  somebody  else  who  longs  to 
rush  into  speculations  which  the  elect  are  afraid 
of.  Why  should  any  one  come  to  New  York? 
To  be  young,  good-looking,  rich,  and  a  widow,  does 
not  preclude  a  desire  for  novelty,  some  wish  to  en 
large  one's  experience.  Perhaps  —  who  knows  — 
she  may  be  looking  for  a  successor  to  the  late 
Aurelio  Hernandez.  But  to  come  back  to  the 
point,  —  will  you  or  will  you  not  accept  Mrs.  John 
Roylance's  invitation  to  dinner  next  Wednesday  ?  '" 


108        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

Perhaps  convinced  by  these  explanations  and 
these  arguments,  perhaps  because  his  disinclina 
tions  had  been  a  matter  of  vanity  and  whim  only, 
Hartley  accepted  without  further  demur.  He  had 
heard  not  a  little  about  John  Roy  lance's  new 
client  within  the  past  few  weeks,  but  in  a  way  to 
repel  as  much  as  to  attract.  He  had  all  his  life 
piqued  himself  upon  his  fastidious  insistence  upon 
the  very  best  things,  and  he  hated  to  recognize  any 
deterioration,  any  acceptance  of  which  was  second- 
rate.  Still  what  he  was  told  about  the  wealth  of 
this  possibly  dubious  widow  adapted  itself  to  his 
naive  love  of  magnificence.  And  there  come  epochs 
in  the  lives  of  the  most  brilliant  people  when  the 
original  impulse  seems  to  have  exhausted  itself, 
when  to  the  first  bubble,  sparkle,  effervescence, 
succeeds  flatness.  Since  his  painful  half-hour  at 
the  Garners'  three  weeks  before,  everything  had 
been  dull  to  Hartley.  Nothing  could  look  more 
hopeless  than  his  future  in  the  world  in  which  he 
had  ever  shone,  but  where  now  he  seemed  to 
have  dwindled  from  a  chief  actor  into  a  mere 
looker-on.  In  his  devotion  to  the  Garners,  he  had 
for  more  than  a  year  given  up  his  general  social 
preeminence ;  other  men  had  pushed  into  his  place 
and  he  now  felt  himself  crowded  out.  His  face 
was  strange  to  the  young  girls,  who  considered  him 
antiquated,  and  passed  him  by  for  boys  with  whom 
he  would  make  no  effort  to  compete.  A  more  ro 
mantic  man  in  such  a  situation  might  have  pressed 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.    109 

his  heart  into  the  service  of  his  grievance  and  be 
lieved  that  his  present  lack  of  high  spirits  proceeded 
from  his  disappointment  in  his  love-affair.  But  he 
was  at  all  events  110  sentimentalist.  Love,  he  said  to 
himself,  was  like  pebble  soup,  very  good  and  very 
nourishing  if  well  flavored  with  thyme,  parsley, 
rosemary,  pepper,  salt,  and  a  substantial  marrow 
bone.  What  he  still  hated  to  think  of  was  his  in 
effectual  waste  of  effort  and  material,  his  time, —  his 
bouquets,  his  bonbons,  his  books.  It  made  him 
almost  cynical  to  hear  that  Garthe  was  pursuing 
under  every  advantage  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs. 
Garner. 

"  I  sow  and  others  reap,"  he  said  to  himself. 
44 1  lay  eggs  and  others  incubate  them." 

.  Still  he  reflected  on  his  good  services  in  Garthe's 
behalf  with  some  complacency,  always  piquing  him 
self  on  being  a  good  fellow,  a  warm-hearted  fellow, 
a  better  fellow  than  others,  not  to  say  a  brighter. 
The  more  the  pity,  then,  that  circumstances  forced 
him  to  decline  on  a  lower  range  of  feelings  than 
had  moved  him  hitherto,  although  in  his  present 
restless  and  transitional  mood  it  was  something  to 
have  some  clearly  defined  object  of  pursuit. 

The  John  Roylaiices  lived  in  Brooklyn  in  an 
ample,  respectable  way.  They  were  not  people  of 
fashion,  were  wholly  guiltless  of  worldly  ambitions, 
and  had  experienced  no  slight  embarrassment  in 
offering  attention  to  their  rich,  pretty  client  who 
had  complained  to  the  lawyer  that  she  had  been  in 


110       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

New  York  almost  a  month  and  had  so  far  found  it 
a  most  inhospitable  place.  Mrs.  Hernandez's  busi 
ness  had  been  for  a  year  —  and  promised  for  some 
time  to  come  to  be  —  so  profitable  to  John  Koylance 
that  he  at  once  bestirred  himself  and  consulted  with 
his  brother,  who  not  only  suggested  giving  a  dinner, 
but  promised  that  his  partner,  who  was  a  man  of 
high  fashion  and  good  looks,  should  be  one  of  the 
guests.  Thus  it  was  a  clear  relief  when  Hartley, 
after  going  backwards  and  forwards,  accepted  the 
invitation  with  an  air  of  concession. 

"Of  course,"  Joseph  Roylauce  said,  "you  are 
in  society,  and  John  and  his  wife  are  not  in 
society.  But  they  are  well  off,  and,  when  occa 
sion  demands,  can  step  out  handsomely.  The  affair 
may  be  a  little  heavy,  but  I  can  safely  promise 
you  a  good  dinner." 

No  sooner  had  Hartley  met  the  mysterious  stran 
ger  than  he  realized  that  it  would  have  been  one  of 
the  most  foolish  acts  of  his  life  to  forego  this  op 
portunity.  Koylance  had  not  exaggerated :  Mrs. 
Hernandez  was  still  young,  that  is,  her  age  could 
scarcely  have  been  thirty,  and  she  was  rather  star- 
tlingly  handsome,  with  complexion  of  a  rich  creamy 
tint,  ample  dark  hair  which  she  wore  massed  on 
the  top  of'  her  head  and  stuck  full  of  diamond- 
headed  pins  like  a  Japanese  matron,  imperious 
black  eyes  beneath  imperious  black  brows,  and  a 
saucy  mouth  with  so  short  an  upper  lip  that  she 
seemed  always  on  the  point  of  uttering  some  lively 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      Ill 

and  impertinent  speech.  Considering  the  quiet 
nature  of  the  occasion,  she  was  perhaps  too  much 
dressed,  but  of  such  wealth  as  hers  was  reputed 
to  be  some  visible  sign  was  desirable.  Hartley  at 
least  was  not  ready  to  find  fault  with  her  ostenta 
tion.  He  would  himself  have  liked  to  take  her  out 
to  dinner  and  to  delight  her  with  the  piquancy  of 
his  wit,  the  felicity  of  his  descriptions,  and  his 
happy  dexterity  in  flattery.  But  of  course  she  fell 
to  the  host  instead,  while  Hartley,  with  the  best 
grace  he  could  muster,  offered  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Roy- 
lance.  He  recovered  from  his  disappointment  to  a 
degree  when,  on  sitting  down  at  table,  he  found  that 
his  right-hand  neighbor  was  Miss  Shepard,  Mrs. 
Hernandez's  friend,  companion,  and  chaperon. 
Perhaps  he  considered  her  the  key  to  the  door  of 
acquaintance  with  the  rich  widow.  Perhaps  his 
curiosity  was  piqued  by  Miss  Shepard's  own  indi 
vidual  characteristics.  At  all  events  she  interested 
him  at  once,  although  she  sat  through  the  early 
courses  with  her  attention  fixed  wholly  on  the  plate 
before  her,  glancing  neither  to  the  right  nor  left. 
She  was  tall  and  thin,  of  any  age  between  thirty 
and  fifty,  neither  young  nor  old,  handsome  nor 
ugly.  She  had  a  clear  large-featured  face  with  an 
expanded  forehead,  thoughtful  yellowish  eyes,  a 
wide  pliable  mouth  with  peculiar  curves.  A  little 
furrow  between  her  brows  seemed  to  indicate  an 
easily  perplexed  and  troubled  earnestness  of  mind, 
but  in  general  her  whole  expression  was  concen 
trated  and  alert. 


112       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Even  while  addressing  a  flood  of  polite  nothings 
to  his  hostess  he  was  all  the  time  attentively  ob 
serving  her  and  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  com 
pel  her  attention.  Mrs.  Roy  lance  herself  gave  him 
the  clue. 

"  Miss  Shepard  lectures ;  have  you  heard  her  ?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  I  have  not  yet  had  that  pleasure,"  he  replied ; 
then,  no  longer  withheld  by  lack  of  a  subject,  "  1 
wonder  if  it  was  you  who  lectured  on  Ibsen  ? " 
he  said,  turning  to  her.  u  Mrs.  Challoner  was  tell 
ing  me  about  it  a  few  nights  ago." 

Miss  Shepard's  lips  had  moved  in  nervous  impa 
tience  as  she  overheard  Mrs.  Roylance's  remarks. 
She  replied :  — 

"Yes,  it  was  I.  I  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Chal 
loner.  She  seemed  to  me  a  clever  but  very  super 
ficial  sort  of  woman." 

"Oh,  we  are  all  superficial,"  said  Hartley. 

"  Unless  people  are  in  earnest  I  have  no  time  to 
waste  on  them,"  said  Miss  Shepard  stiffly,  but  at 
the  same  time  regarding  him  with  interest. 

"  Don't  blame  me  for  not  being  in  earnest,"  he 
retorted.  "  It  is  not  my  fault  but  my  misfortune 
that  you  look  down  upon  me.  Luckily  you  can't 
run  away,  and  perhaps  before  dinner  is  over  you 
may  make  me  in  earnest  for  the  rest  of  my  days. 
I  was  never  properly  equipped  for  life  with  fixed 
opinions,  views,  convictions,  prejudices.  Every 
subject  in  the  world  presents  itself  to  me  with  the 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      113 

inevitable  interrogation  point.  Now  there  is  Mrs. 
Roylance's  brother-in-law,  who  enjoys  Working- 
men's  meetings,  Everybody's  Rights'  Associations, 
Reformers'  Clubs  ;  he  serves  on  committees ;  he  is 
vice-president,  secretary,  what  not,  of  all  sorts  of 
societies ;  he  likes  to  be  preached  at  and  lectured 
to  by  the  hour.  His  particular  pride  is  to  receive 
tracts  on  all  humanitarian  subjects.  He  is  my 
partner,  and  you  will  like  him  even  if  you  can't  like 
me." 

Miss  Shepard  listened  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  I  have  all  my  life  liked  the  wrong  people," 
she  remarked. 

"Now  I  enjoy  that  sort  of  confession.  It  opens 
up  a  vista  to  the  imagination." 

"  What  I  mean,"  she  explained,  "  is  that  I 
like  one  set  of  ideas  and,  too  often,  another  set  of 
people." 

"You  don't  realize  your  own  power  to  impose 
your  ideas  upon  people  of  the  most  opposite  con 
victions,"  said  Hartley.  "Mrs.  Challoner,  —  Mrs. 
Challoner,  for  example,  whom  you  did  not  like,  — 
confided  to  me  that  she  was  so  carried  away  by 
your  Ibsenish  theories  she  longed  to  run  away 
from  her  husband." 

"  If  he  is  a  bad  husband  her  impulse  was  quite 
right!" 

"  He  is  the  best  of  husbands.  She  adores  him, 
he  adores  her.  But,  don't  you  see,  the  irresistible 
logic  of  your  discourse  made  her  feel  that  any 


114      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

woman  of  proper  feeling  ought  to  be  antagonistic 
to  marriage." 

Miss  Shepard's  face  showed  the  kindling  of 
feeling. 

"  If  cause  exists  for  antagonism,  if  she  is 
restricted,  limited,  hindered,  —  if  she  does  not  feel 
that  her  soul  is  growing  "  — 

"  Who  is  not  in  some  direction  restricted, 
limited,  hindered ?"  said  Hartley.  "I  know  that 
I  am.  I  long  to  burst  my  trammels  and  have  a 
chance  for  free  play.  Don't  you,  Mrs.  Roylance  ?  " 
turning  back  to  his  hostess. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Roylance 
nervously. 

"  Were  you  never  cramped  by  your  environ 
ment  ?  "  demanded  Hartley  with  an  air  of  intense 
sympathy.  "  Do  you  feel  that  you  are  fully  com 
prehended  by  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest 
to  you,  —  do  they  not  sometimes  fail  to  give  you 
absolute  liberty  to  follow  out  the  dictates  of  your 
own  will  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roylance  looked  startled. 

"  One  does  not  expect  it,"  she  said  guardedly. 

"  Did  you  never,  for  example,  long  to  run  away 
from  Mr.  Roylance  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  I  wonder  you  can  speak  of 
such  a  dreadful  thing." 

"  Oh,  it  is  Miss  Shepard  who  urges  it,  not  I," 
explained  Hartley.  u  She  thinks  that  if  a  woman 
has  a  grievance  it  should  be  redressed  without  loss 
of  time." 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      115 

"  It  is  not  in  this  world  that  a  woman  expects 
compensation,"  observed  Mrs.  Roy  lance. 

Miss  Shepard's  eyes  showed  the  glimmer  of  a 
smile. 

"One  can  see,"  she  now  remarked,  addressing  her 
hostess,  "  that  Mr.  Hartley  is  in  the  habit  of 
taking  the  problems  of  life  very  lightly,  —  at  least 
those  problems  which  confront  modern  women." 

"  But  the  problems  which  confront  modern 
men  have  to  be  taken  lightly,"  Hartley  struck  in. 
"  Nobody  cares  about  our  wrongs.  If  I  were  to 
address  the  universe  because  /  was  restless  and 
unhappy,  I  should  be  considered  absurd.  Nobody 
suffers  when  I  eat  my  heart  out  with  grief  because 
I  cannot  have  what  I  want." 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  a  good  income,  houses,  equipages, 
an  inexhaustible  balance  at  my  banker's." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  men,  and  women  too,  who, 
like  you,  shirk  the  chief  questions  of  life,"  said 
Miss  Shepard. 

"I  will  do  anything  you  suggest,"  retorted 
Hartley.  "  I  feel  like  rushing  into  some  extreme ; 
like  plunging  headlong  into  a  gulf,  —  only  make  it 
clear  to  me  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"  I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  I  am  the  prophet 
appointed  to  influence  your  life,  Mr.  Hartley. 
And  indeed,  if  I  am  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilder 
ness,  I  have  to  confess  that  I  hardly  know  what  or 
whom  it  is  that  I  announce." 


116      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  I  supposed  it  was  Ibsen." 

"  Ibsen  understands  women,"  Miss  Shepard 
answered.  "  He  understands  that  a  woman  is  an 
individual  being  ;  that  her  duty  to  herself  is  para 
mount  to  all  other  duties  ;  that  she  must  be  left  free 
and  unfettered  to  question  her  own  conscience  and 
decide  upon  her  own  course.  For  unless  she  is 
true  to  her  inner  sense  of  right,  justice,  and  duty, 
she  can  be  no  true  wife,  mother,  or  friend." 

u  Ibsen  is  a  man,"  Mrs.  Roylance  struck  in  with 
a  quickening  of  expression  in  her  large,  calm  face. 
"  If  he  were  a  woman  he  would  have  found  out  that 
a  woman  is  most  herself  when  she  forgets  herself, 
rises  above  herself.  He  would  have  seen  that  if 
Nora  Ilelmar  had  been  really  a  sensible  woman,  she 
could  have  looked  at  the  question  of  her  husband's 
mistakes  about  her  all  round,  and  have  smiled  at 
them ;  and  that  if  she  were  so  impulsive  as  to  be 
vexed  with  him  even  to  the  point  of  running  away, 
she  must  have  come  back  next  morning  before  her 
children  opened  their  eyes.  But,  of  course,  a  man 
cannot  know,  and  even  a  woman  who  has  had  no  chil 
dren  cannot  know,  that  it  would  have  killed  her  to 
feel  that  they  were  missing  her  and  calling  for  her." 

Hartley,  fancying  that  this  wholly  feminine  shaft 
might  have  pierced  to  the  quick  and  rankled  in 
Miss  Shepard,  glanced  at  her  in  some  dismay. 
But  Miss  Shepard  seemed  not  hurt,  only  meditating, 
as  if  pondering  the  question  from  some  fresh  point 
of  view. 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      117 

"  I  don't  say  Nora  was  happy,"  she  returned ; 
than  added,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  enlightenment, 
"  No  form  of  martyrdom  is  easy  and  pleasant,  so 
far  as  I  have  ever  heard." 

"  If  I  left  my  husband  and  children,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Roylance  with  no  little  spirit,  "  I  should  not 
consider  myself  a  martyr." 

"  But  then,  Mrs.  Roylance,"  said  Hartley,  "  you 
and  I  are  not  of  the  stuff  of  which  reformers 
are  made.  We  like  comfort,  respectability,  sub 
stance,  we  like  not  being  in  the  papers.  It  is  Miss 
Shepard  who  is  willing  to  walk  with  bleeding  feet 
and  cut  brambles  and  briers  out  of  our  way.  How 
is  it,"  he  inquired,  turning  to  her,  "  about  your 
charming  friend,  Mrs.  Hernandez?  Is  she  a 
reformer?  Is  she  emancipated?  Does  she  sym 
pathize  with  your  views  ?  " 

"  In  a  way,"  answered  Miss  Shepard  with  an  air 
of  reserve. 

"  From  afar  off,  I  take  it." 

Miss  Shepard  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  said 
in  a  low  voice,  "  I  should  not  call  her,  strictly 
speaking,  a  reformer.  Still,  while  I  am  a  mere 
echo  of  other  peoples'  advanced  opinions,  Mrs. 
Hernandez  is  capable  of  acting  and  drawing  opinions 
after  her." 

Hartley  glanced  across  the  table  at  Mrs.  Her 
nandez,  who  certainly  did  not  pose  as  one  of  the 
emancipated,  but  had  the  air  of  a  pretty  woman 
who  expects  a  full  tribute  of  admiration  from  every 
man  who  addresses  her. 


118      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  She  seems  to  find  herself  in  harmony  with 
fate,"  said  Hartley.  "  Has  she  a  husband?  " 

"  No,  she  is  a  widow." 

"  You  spoke  as  if  —  " 

"  lie  was  a  bad  husband,"  murmured  Miss 
Shepard.  "  For  a  time  she  was  like  a  captive 
without  hope  of  release,  —  then  — 

"  What  happened  ?  " 

"  He  died  suddenly." 

"  Died  ?  " 

"That  is,  he  was  killed  —  killed  by  falling 
down  a  shaft  in  one  of  his  own  mines." 

"  I  should  say  fate  was  on  her  side.  How  long 
ago  did  this  take  place?  " 

"  Almost  eighteen  months." 

"  Has  she  children  ?  " 

"None  living." 

"  She  has  come  to  New  York  to  live  ?  " 

"  She  desired  some  kind  of  change.  She  was 
tired  of  the  West.  We  may  go  to  Paris,  but  first 
she  is  curious  to  find  out  what  New  York  life  is 
like.  She  is,  I  am  afraid,  a  woman  in  quest  of 
sensations." 

This  seemed  to  define  Mrs.  Hernandez  to  Hart 
ley's  perceptions.  More  than  once,  as  he  looked 
towards  her,  he  had  encountered  her  glance,  bent 
on  him  and  Miss  Shepard  with  a  sort  of  amused 
curiosity.  On  leaving  the  dining-room  he  at  once 
singled  her  out,  and  although  she  was  in  conversa 
tion  with  others,  he  took  his  stand  close  beside 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      119 

her  and  fixed  his  gaze  upon  her.  His  persever 
ance  was  rewarded.  She  soon  turned  and  re 
marked  playfully  that  he  and  Eugenia  had  seemed 
to  find  some  congenial  subject  to  talk  about. 
Hartley  replied  that  he  had  been  invited  to  meet 
herself  and  had  been  looking  forward  all  the 
evening  to  a  chance  to  speak  to  her.  He  seemed 
inclined  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  succeeded  so 
well  in  pleasing  her  that  she  gave  him  an  eager 
invitation  to  come  and  see  her  at  "  The  Percy." 

He  called  on  the  following  day,  but  the  ladies 
were  out.  The  next  morning,  however,  a  private 
messenger  brought  him  an  invitation  to  take  a  cup 
of  tea  with  Mrs.  Hernandez  that  day  at  half  past 
four  o'clock.  On  arriving  promptly  at  that  hour, 
he  was  ushered  into  a  very  luxurious  suite  of 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  of  the  great  hotel,  and 
had  time  to  look  about  him  before  his  hostess, 
elaborately  dressed,  entered,  followed  by  Miss 
Shepard.  She  accounted  for  her  delay  with  a 
fluency  which  the  visitor  now  discovered  was  her 
habit  rather  than  the  comparative  languor  she  had 
shown  at  the  Roylances'  dinner.  She  explained 
that  she  had  been  waiting  for  Miss  Shepard ;  it 
had  been  stipulated  that  in  coming  to  the  East 
she  should  do  nothing  without  a  chaperon ;  she 
had  been  used  at  the  West  to  do  much  as  she  took 
the  fancy, — here,  she  was  nothing  if  not  conven 
tional.  If  she  went  out  to  buy  a  pair  of  gloves, 
Miss  Shepard  must  go  with  her;  if  she  took  a 


120      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

drive  in  the  park,  Miss  Shepard  must  sit  beside 
her.  Hartley  hazarded  the  observation  that  there 
might  be  drawbacks  even  to  the  possession  of  youth 
and  beauty,  which  Mrs.  Hernandez  received  with 
some  coquetry. 

"  Eugenia  is  my  angel  with  the  drawn  sword," 
she  said  with  a  laugh  which  showed  her  small 
white  teeth. 

Miss  Shepard  had  not  spoken  to  Hartley  except 
to  utter  the  briefest  form  of  greeting.  She  looked 
impatient  while  this  explanation  was  going  on,  and, 
crossing  the  room  to  the  low  table  in  the  corner 
under  the  great  lamp  shaded  with  a  red  umbrella, 
began  to  make  tea. 

Hartley  tried  to  give  the  conversation  a  more 
general  turn  by  saying  that  he  had  been  over- 
prompt,  but  that  in  waiting  five  minutes  he  had  had 
a  chance  to  observe  the  prettiness  and  comfort  of 
the  rooms.  "  They  are  actually  homelike,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Hernandez  took  up  the  subject  with  in 
terest.  The  suite  had  been  furnished  in  cold 
pale  pink  and  blue,  she  said,  and  she  and  Eugenia 
had  gone  out  to  the  shops  and  ordered  in  all 
sorts  of  Eastern  rugs  and  embroideries,  Japanese 
screens,  jugs  and  jars,  to  give  a  warm  effect. 

"  I  need  a  background,"  she  said.  u  I  like  to 
put  on  a  black  or  a  white  gown  and  leave  the 
room  to  do  the  rest." 

As  she  spoke  she  flung  herself  against  the  pile 
of  bright  cushions  on  the  low  sofa.  There  was,  in 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN   OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      121 

all  her  movements,  in  the  way  she  entered  and 
crossed  the  room,  a  little  more  ease  and  dash  than 
belong,  as  a  rule,  to  polite  society,  but  she  was 
never  awkward  or  self-conscious.  The  least  vain 
man  in  the  world  must  have  been  flattered  by  the 
glance  of  curiosity  and  expectation  she  kept  fixed 
on  Hartley. 

"  How  dull  that  dinner  party  was,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "  At  least,  what  a  dull  time  I  had  !  I 
thought  it  would  never  end.  I  like  to  meet  new 
people,  but  I  can  tell  in  five  minutes  whether  they 
are  my  kind.  Mr.  Roylaiice  offered  me  all  the 
statistics  about  the  Brooklyn  churches,  gave  me 
the  number  which  belonged  to  each  denomination. 
When  he  had  exhausted  that  subject  he  asked 
questions  concerning  the  climate  and  productions 
of  the  Pacific  coast.  I  looked  over  at  you  and 
Eugenia  with  envy,  you  were  so  deeply  engaged  in 
some  topic.  Even  Mrs.  Roylance  seemed  excited." 

"Miss  Shepard  startled  her  with  some  new 
ideas." 

"  Did  she  startle  you  ?  " 

"I  felt  that  unless  I  wished  to  be  absolutely 
convinced  and  carried  over  to  her  views  I  must 
shut  myself  up  and  try  to  preserve  my  balance." 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  what  account  she 
gave  of  you?  That  you  were  one  of  those  men 
so  highly  polished  that  nothing  makes  any  im 
pression, —  everything  slides  off.  She  says  you 
have  evidently  never  thought  of  women  at  all 


122      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

except  as  pretty  ornamental  soulless  creatures  to 
amuse  an  idle  hour." 

"  On  the  contrary,  if  I  could  by  any  sort  of 
antics  amuse  any  one  of  your  sex  fop  one  of  your 
idle  hours  I  should  be  only  too  proud." 

Mrs.  Hernandez  laughed. 

"  I  asked  her  if  you  were  married,"  she  went  on. 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  She  could  not  decide.  But  I  see  you  are  not 
married." 

"  Good  heavens,  no." 

"  You  never  have  been  married  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  I  never  have  been  married. 
Nobody  ever  considered  me  worth  having." 

"  I  suspect  it  is  the  other  way.  You  are  very 
fastidious,  very  ambitious,  very "  —  she  made  a 
gesture  which  seemed  to  finish  the  sentence  com 
prehensively  without  more  words.  "  You  go  into 
society  a  great  deal,  do  you  not  ? "  she  pursued. 
"  Are  you  fond  of  society?  " 

"Mr.  Hartley  may  not  like  to  be  cross-ex 
amined,"  Miss  Shepard  struck  in  with  a  warning 
note. 

"But  don't  you  see,  Eugenia,"  pleaded  Mrs. 
Hernandez,  "  Mr.  Hartley  is,  so  to  speak,  the  first 
human  being  I  have  had  a  chance  to  get  hold  of  in 
New  York.  I  came  here  to  be  amused,  but  Mr. 
Roylance  and  his  set  of  people  do  not  amuse  me. 
As  the  Scotchman  said,  'They  're  dool,  just  dool.' 
And  Eugenia's  friends  want  to  talk  upon  such 


HARTLEY  FINDS  AN  OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      123 

abstract  subjects.  I  believe  in  our  having  all  the 
rights  we  want,  but  I  believe  in  taking  them,  not  in 
discussing  the  question  of  whether  it  is  womanly, 
whether  from,  the  beginning  of  the  universe  it  was 
intended  we  should  know  when  we  are  cold,  when 
we  are  hungry,  whether  we  ought  to  be  permitted 
to  cry  out  if  we  are  hurt.  I  save  time  by  dismiss 
ing  those  preliminaries,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  and 
taking  what  suits  me.  I  am  so  interested  in  the 
life  here  !  I  am  curious  about  the  people.  What 
I  long  to  hear  about,  is  what  New  Yorkers  can  get 
out  of  life." 

"  We  generally  feel  that  we  are  not  left  behind," 
observed  Hartley. 

44  Yes,  but  going  into  a  strange  city  one  is  at 
such  a  disadvantage.  It  is  like  going  into  one  of 
the  grand  shops  where  one  is  obliged  to  inquire  the 
price  of  every  individual  thing.  I  have  been  used 
to  places  where  anything  and  everybody  had,  as  it 
were,  a  ticket,  so  I  knew  exactly  what  they  stood 
for.  If  I  ask  too  many  questions  you  must  lay  it 
to  my  zeal  for  knowledge." 

"I  will  explain,"  said  Hartley,  "that  I  myself 
am  a  very  costly  article ;  you  can  hardly  put  the 
figures  too  high." 

She  regarded  him  with  her  brilliant  black  eyes, 
evidently  not  quite  sure  whether  he  was  ironical 
or  in  earnest.  Miss  Shepard,  who  had  made  the 
tea,  now.  brought  him  a  cup,  offering  at  the  same 
time  cream  and  sugar. 


124      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  Give  him  a  slice  of  lemon  and  half  a  wineglass 
of  ruin,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez.  "  I  am  sure  he 
cares  as  little  as  I  do  about  your  old  maid's  brew." 

Hartley,  however,  accepted  Miss  Shepard's  offer. 

"  Eugenia  says  that  it  is  the  highly  civilized  thing 
to  have  afternoon  tea,  —  that  every  one  expects  it 
now-a-days,"  pursued  Mrs.  Hernandez.  *4  I  tell 
her  it  robs  me  of  all  appetite  for  my  dinner." 

She  took  a  cup,  nevertheless,  flavoring  it  to  suit 
her  own  taste. 

"  And  give  me  the  bonbons,  please,  Eugenia,"  she 
added ;  then,  when  Miss  Shepard  brought  her  a 
box  of  chocolate  comfits,  she  put  them  on  the  low 
table  beside  her,  told  Hartley  to  take  his  share  with 
out  ceremony,  and  herself  began  to  nibble  them 
with  a  child's  avidity. 

"  So  you  are  a  high-priced  article,"  she  said, 
going  back  to  the  subject  they  had  left.  "  Mr. 
Roy  lance  told  me  that  you  were  in  the  swim,  went 
everywhere  in  New  York  —  were  intimate  with 
all  the  best  people." 

u  It  may  be  I  am  invited  to  more  things  in  a 
week  than  I  could  go  to  in  a  month,"  said  Hartley, 
"  but  if  I  were  to  pose  as  a  man  of  high  social 
privileges  I  should  consider  myself  an  impostor. 
I  often  feel  as  if  these  invitations  were  a  mere 
hollow  mockery." 

"But  why?" 

"  Because  there  is  nothing  solid  about  my  posi 
tion.  I  am  poor." 


HARTLEY  FINDS  ;1N   OBJECT  IN  LIFE.      125 

"  You  are  very  frank  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Her 
nandez,  opening  her  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"  Better  to  be  frank,  that  people  may  know 
where  a  man  stands,  and  so  expect  nothing  from 
him  and  believe  nothing  in  him." 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  disinterested,"  she  said  gayly. 
"  All  I  ask  for  is  a  chance  to  spend  my  own  money 
in  my  own  way  on  the  right  sort  of  people.  I 
have  some  social  ambitions,  have  I  not,  Eugenia  ?  " 

Although  thus  pointedly  addressed,  Miss  Shepard 
made  no  response  except  by  slightly  changing  her 
position  as  she  sat  upright  in  a  high-backed  chair, 
gazing  straight  before  her. 

"  Eugenia  is  ambitious  enough  in  her  own  way," 
said  Mrs.  Hernandez,  with  a  little  grimace.  Then, 
eager  to  talk  about  herself,  she  told  Hartley  that 
she  had  all  her  life  heard  about  the  East  and  that, 
meeting  Eugenia,  and  finding  that  she  was  anxious 
to  come  East,  they  had  come  on  a  voyage  of  discov 
ery. 

"  I  longed  for  novelty,  —  a  new  world,  new  peo 
ple,  new  occupations  which  I  could  test  for  myself, 
and  I  wanted,  too,  to  test  myself  against  something 
different  from  what  I  had  known  and  what  had 
known  me  all  my  life.  I  like  the  bigness  of  the 
West,  the  horizon,  the  future  of  it.  So  long  as  you 
are  making  money  it  is  the  place  to  live  in.  When 
you  wish  to  spend  it,  luxury  seems  rather  thrown 
away.  And  I  had  been  there  all  my  life ;  I  was 
tired  of  the  West,  of  the  Western  railroads,  the 


126      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Western  cities,  the  Western  people,  —  above  all, 
of  the  Western  point  of  view." 

"And  how  do  you  like  the  Eastern  point  of 
view  ?  "  asked  Hartley. 

"  I  wish  you  would  help  me  to  find  out,"  said 
Mrs.  Hernandez. 

He  had  risen  to  take  leave.  He  told  her  he  was 
altogether  at  her  service  ;  and  he  was  sincere,  for, 
in  spite  of  some  distaste,  he  carried  away  with  him 
a  sense  of  fatality,  of  irresistible  drift  towards  this 
new  acquaintance. 


CHAPTER  VIo 

"SHE  SHOULD  NEVER  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME  IF 
SHE  MEANT  I  SHOULD  NOT  LOVE  HER." 

CONSTANCE  had  made  no  reply  in  word  to 
Garthe's  explicit  statement,  but  he  could  see  by 
her  play  of  feature  that  he  had  not  only  startled 
her,  but  had  roused  some  conflict  of  feeling. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  am  too  presumptuous,"  he 
murmured,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes. 

When  she  could  not  meet  his  glance,  could  not 
falter  out  one  syllable,  when  her  only  answer  was 
a  blush,  so  vivid  and  overpowering  it  showed  that 
some  deep  emotion  was  thus  translating  itself  visibly, 
it  is  hardly  strange  that  such  a  response  did  not 
repel  him. 

He  could  not,  however,  recapture  that  moment 
of  magic,  when  for  a  moment  he  had  seemed  to 
.reach  her,  to  rouse  her  imagination,  to  make  him 
self  clear.  The  studio  party  was  over ;  everybody 
was  hurrying  back  to  town  for  dinner  and  evening 
engagements,  and  he  did  not  succeed  in  exchanging 
another  word  with  Constance.  That  was  a  mis 
chance,  which  some  more  favorable  opportunity 
would  remedy.  They  dined  at  the  same  house  to 
gether  three  times  within  the  ensuing  week,  and 


128      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

being  paired  off  with  others  were  separated  by  the 
length  of  the  table.  That  also  might  have  been 
mischance.  But  when  on  seeking  her  directly  at 
home,  he  found  her  absent  or  inaccessible ;  when 
within  a  few  feet  of  each  other  at  a  social  gathering, 
he  perceived  that  she  permitted  anything  and  every 
thing  to  push  them  apart,  to  hide  her  from  him,  he 
began  to  see  that  it  was  by  her  own  wish,  her  own 
will,  that  they  no  longer  met,  and  he  drew  back. 
Not  that  he  did  not  experience  a  pleasurable  stimu 
lus  in  the  challenge  her  whole  look,  manner,  and 
words  had  held  out.  It  would  have  suited  his 
temper  to  have  persisted  ;  he  liked  to  feel  his  way 
step  by  step  ;  he  was  not  made  impatient  by  a  neces 
sity  for  self-restraint ;  he  could  have  borne  denial, 
since  he  felt  certain  of  a  final  victory.  Still  he 
drew  back.  There  must  be  some  reason  behind 
her  behavior,  and  the  moment  he  dealt  witli  himself 
frankly  he  admitted  that  there  was  reason  enough. 
He  reviewed  the  situation ;  he  acknowledged  that 
he  had  been  carried  away,  that,  intoxicated  by  the 
present  and  the  promise  of  the  future,  he  had  for 
gotten  his  own  past.  The  idea  of  Constance  had 
refreshed  his  senses  for  a  day,  but  it  could  not  be 
an  abiding  presence  in  his  life.  He  was  after  all 
the  same  lonely  man  he  had  been,  and  looking  at 
the  matter  all  round,  he  could  not  expect,  he  could 
not  even  hope,  to  be  a  different  person.  He  went 
back  to  his  work,  to  his  books,  to  his  talks  and  read 
ings  with  Larry.  He  renounced  daydreams  ;  he 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."   129 

could  live  without  them.  His  little  boy  was  enough 
to  interest  and  absorb  him.  A  man  with  a  little 
child  of  his  own  misses  nothing ;  he  has  a  centre 
for  his  energies,  a  constant  diversion,  an  unceasing 
absorption. 

"  You  seem  never  to  listen  to  me  any  more,  papa," 
Larry  said  once,  breaking  in  upon  his  reverie. 
"  What  is  it  you  are  looking  at  in  the  fire  ?  " 

Garthe  knew  very  well  at  what  mental  images  he 
had  been  gazing.  He  took  the  little  fellow  on  his 
knee,  his  heart  gripped  by  the  thought  that  he  had 
neglected  him  lately,  left  him  to  the  servants :  his 
own  child,  all  that  he  had  in  the  world  or  was  likely 
to  have ! 

"  Now  I  will  listen,  dear,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me 
everything." 

A  wave  of  exultation  flushed  Larry.  He  had 
got  his  father  back  again.  He  felt  afresh  the  com 
fort  of  the  strong  arm  ;  the  half -veiled  smile  of  the 
eyes  and  lips.  His  heart  swelled  with  a  desire 
to  express  something  of  the  thoughts  which  loomed 
up  before  his  imagination,  but  all  he  could  bring 
to  his  tongue  was  everyday  babble  about  Percy 
Brown,  who  lived  in  the  next  block  and  went  to  his 
school,  and  who  played  with  him.  Percy  always 
managed  to  get  the  best  of  things :  the  biggest  apple  ; 
if  they  played  Buffalo  Bill  and  the  buffalo,  Percy 
was  the  former  and  Larry  the  latter ;  at  ball,  Percy 
batted  and  Larry  ran  after  it;  if  express  wagon, 
Percy  was  the  driver  and  cracked  his  whip,  and 
Larry  was  the  horse. 


130      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"Is  he  the  best  friend  you  have  got?"  asked 
Garthe. 

No,  there  was  Frank  Benson ;  he  went  shares 
in  everything,  and  Frank  had  besides  a  little  sister, 
the  most  beautiful  little  girl  with  the  dearest  little 
eyes  and  lips.  Larry  liked  to  go  to  Frank's  house 
to  see  her.  Frank  had  a  mamma,  too.  When  she 
heard  that  Larry  had  no  mamma,  she  said,  "  Poor 
little  Larry,"  and  she  kissed  him  twice,  and  ever 
since,  when  she  saw  him  she  took  him  on  her  lap 
and  kissed  him. 

"  I  pretend,"  said  Larry  slyly,  "  I  don't  like  it. 
But  I  do." 

"  Should  you  like  to  have  a  mamma  ?  "  asked 
Garthe. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  Larry  shouted.  "  I  've  got  a  papa. 
I  don't  want  anything  more." 

One  day,  in  a  quiet  side  street,  Garthe  came  sud 
denly  and  unexpectedly  upon  Constance  Garner. 
For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  then,  baring  his  head, 
he  stopped  directly  in  her  path  and  looked  at  her. 

She  then  paused,  glanced  at  him,  smiled,  and 
blushed. 

"  You  never  come  to  us  now,"  she  faltered,  like 
the  coquette  she  was  with  him. 

"  Do  I  not  ?  "  he  asked,  half  smiling,  looking  at 
her  frankly  and  keenly,  and  without  any  self- 
consciousness  in  his  manner.  "  Do  you  then  wish 
me  to  come  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  wish  you  to  come,"  she  murmured, 


" SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."   131 

her   eyes   fixing   on   him,  and  then  withdrawing. 
"  Kathy  says  —  " 
• "  What  does  she  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  she  never  sees  you  now."  Again  a  blush 
overmastered  Constance,  but  she  persisted.  "  Will 
you  not  come  to-morrow?  "  she  asked. 

"  To-morrow  ?  It  is  one  of  your  Tuesdays.  Of 
course  I  shall  go  gladly  since  you  ask  me,"  said 
Garthe. 

He  stood  still  with  his  head  uncovered  while  she 
went  up  the  street.  He  experienced  a  strange  sen 
sation  of  relief,  a  sense  of  difficulty  overcome.  Pie 
could  bear  his  fate  now-a-days  without  bitter  ironies 
or  stern  resentments  ;  but  it  was  a  fate,  neverthe 
less,  and  he  had  accepted  the  fact  logically  that  it 
separated  him  from  Constance.  Any  other  solu 
tion  of  the  problem  her  conduct  had  presented  was 
a  mere  cobweb  which  he  could  brush  away. 

He  had  disregarded  all  his  invitations  of  late 
which  required  no  direct  response,  but  now  he 
looked  them  over.  If  Constance  wished  to  see 
him,  the  opportunity  was  hers.  Kathleen,  who 
was  hospitably  within  reach,  while  Constance  was 
occupied  and  remote,  when  he  called  at  the  house 
next  day,  described  him  as  self-contained  in  man 
ner.  Constance  could  be  eloquent  enough  in  ex 
plaining  any  symptoms  of  coldness  in  Garthe.  He 
was  no  hypocrite,  no  mere  idler ;  he  had  occupa 
tions  ;  minor  considerations  perhaps  perplexed  and 
hampered  him. 


132      THE  STORY   OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

The  girl,  who  so  far  as  she  understood  herself 
believed  that  she  was  sincere,  must  have  needed 
some  mental  jugglery  in  vitalizing  the  fiction  that 
Garthe's  object  of  pursuit  was  Kathleen.  But 
then  all  the  world  seemed  to  consider  it  such  a  pro 
pitious  opportunity  for  a  man  to  fall  in  love. 
Mrs.  Challoner,  who  desired  nothing  so  much  as 
that  John  Marchmont  should  win  Kathleen,  still 
felt  that  Garthe  ought  to  have  his  chance. 

Garthe  was  not  discontented.  It  was  an  easy 
matter  to  talk  to  Kathleen.  His  interest  in  Con 
stance  made  him  long  to  know  everything  concern 
ing  her,  and  it  was  something  to  elicit  from  her 
step-mother  all  sorts  of  intimate  confidences  which 
bore  on  their  everyday  pursuits.  He  could  keep 
in  touch  with  them,  could  be  sure  of  meeting  them. 

Then,  too,  Kathleen's  easy  volubility  entertained 
him.  He  considered  her  a  winning  creature.  With 
her  simple  and  yet  rather  subtle  witchery,  she 
seemed  to  him  a  charming  child  ;  offering  with  a 
happy  and  inconsequent  flow  of  ideas  the  most 
incredible  confessions :  what  she  liked  best  to  eat ; 
her  views  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  her  taste 
in  gowns  and  gloves  ;  her  experiences  with  tight 
shoes  ;  her  impressions  upon  the  question  of  female 
suffrage.  They  soon  established  the  friendliest 
relations  ;  relations  which  might  easily  have  seemed 
to  Garthe  a  happy  augury  for  a  better  acquaintance 
with  Constance.  The  camaraderie  he  and  Kath 
leen  had  established,  he  realized  on  her  side  as  on 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."   133 

his  own  was  purely  friendly,  utterly  devoid  of  pas 
sionate  feeling,  —  she  liked  somebody  to  whom 
she  could  impart  her  compunctions  for  imaginary 
sins,  whom  she  could  impress  by  her  attitude 
towards  the  world,  running  eagerly  towards  it  one 
week,  and  the  next  letting  it  go  by. 

"  Actually,"  she  said  once  to  Garthe,  "  I  never 
wish  now-a-days  to  give  myself  up  to  enjoyment, 
but  sometimes,  as  I  really  love  dancing,  I  get  run 
away  with  by  the  music  and  the  little  demon  within 
me.  Then,  too,  to  dance  with  the  very  young  men 
one  sees  in  societv  seems  the  easiest  way  of  dispos 
ing  of  them.  One  gets  out  of  breath  and  cannot 
talk,  and  better  still,  they  get  out  of  breath  and 
cannot  talk.  I  fancy  that  the  reason  I  like  people 
who  are  older  and  wiser  than  myself  is  that  when 
a  general  average  is  taken  between  us,  I  am  lifted 
up  ;  whereas,  with  the  young  and  foolish,  I  descend. 
For  although  you  might  not  think  it,  Mr.  Garthe, 
I  do  have  aspirations.  Society  does  not  content 
me,  although  I  love  society.  What  I  feel  about 
society  is  that  it  stimulates  us,  offers  occupation, 
gives  us  a  chance  of  doing  something  and  saying 
something  more  than  we  can  in  family  life.  The 
pleasure  of  living,  I  take  it,  is  to  feel  strongly,  and 
then  to  utter  unreservedly  the  impression  produced 
upon  one.  The  only  trouble  is,  I  am  so  apt  to  be 
unlucky  and  say  something  which  seems  pointed. 
Now  the  other  night  at  the  private  view  there  was 
a  Mr.  Balfour  introduced  to  me  at  a  moment  when 


134      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

I  was  smitten  with  a  desire  to  talk  about  the  pic- 
tures.  I  remarked  that  the  artists  all  seemed 
rather  at  a  loss  for  a  subject,  and  he  said  the  less 
subject  the  better,  and  quoted  Thackeray,  who 
declared  an  artist  needed  no  head  above  his  eyes. 
Yes,  exactly,  I  returned,  —  a  painter  should  be  ca 
pable  of  looking  at  a  thing,  feeling  the  whole  thrill 
and  passion  of  it,  if  it  be  only  a  tree,  until  the  actu 
ality  of  its  being  a  tree  burned  into  his  very  fibre, 
—  then  putting  it  down  simply,  —  why,  that  was 
what  I  called  having  a  subject.  '  But  now/  I  went 
on, '  look  at  that  picture  of  nymphs  !  Certainly  the 
man  who  painted  it  had  not  used  his  eyes,  but  had 
evolved  the  thing  out  of  his  poor  little  brain  above 
his  eyes.  He  never  saw  nymphs  in  a  wood,  —  he 
never  even  felt  the  meaning  of  nymphs  in  a  wood  ! 
Actual  nymphs  wrould  seem  to  belong  there  as  much 
as  the  trunks  of  trees  or  the  checker  of  light  and 
shadow  on  the  moss.  These  are  only  girls  playing 
at  nymphs  whom  you  long  to  send  to  the  ready- 
made  clothing  department  at  Arnold's,  without  loss 
of  time,  to  be  fitted  out  with  skirts,  blouses,  blazers, 
big  sleeves,  hats,  gloves,  and  pointed  shoes.' "  Kathy 
paused  a  second,  looked  at  Garthe,  and  then,  clasp 
ing  her  hands  together  on  her  breast,  she  ejacu 
lated,  "  Just  fancy !  This  Mr.  Balfour  was  the 
artist  who  had  painted  that  picture  !  " 

"  Was  he  hurt  by  your  criticism  ?  "  Garthe  in 
quired. 

"  I  don't  think  he  liked  it,"  said  Kathy  sadly. 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."    135 

"  He  took  me  into  the  next  room  and  showed  me 
some  poppies  he  had  done  which  he  fancied  might 
please  me  better.  It  reminded  me  of  - 

'  Bring1  poppies  for  the  wounded  mind.' 

A  great  many  poppies  are  essential  in  order  to  in 
duce  oblivion  after  a  person  talks  long  with  me,  I 
fear.  Now,  Constance  and  I  were  discussing  the 
propriety  of  widows  marrying  again  ;  and  one  day 
lately,  when  I  was  lunching  with  seven  ladies, 
what  she  had  said  on  the  question  occurred  to  me, 
and  I  brought  it  up.  I  confess  that  the  subject 
has  two  sides,  even  for  me ;  and  sometimes  I  see  it 
from  the  point  of  view  that  the  very  fact  that  a 
woman  has  once  been  happy  married  ought  to  in 
duce  her  to  try  to  be  happy  again.  But  on  that 
day  I  saw  it  from  the  other  side,  and  marrying 
again  seemed  a  sin,  and  I  proclaimed  that  dogma. 
I  said  that  no  woman  who  had  loved  her  husband 
ought  to  think  of  marrying  again  ;  and  if  she  had 
not  loved  him,  she  was  a  monster,  and  no  man 
ought  to  be  permitted  to  marry  her."  Again 
Kathy  looked  at  Garthe  and  clasped  her  hands 
convulsively  at  her  throat.  "  And,"  she  went  on, 
"it  turned  out  that  of  these  seven  women,  three 
had  been  married  twice,  one  was  a  widow  for  the 
second  time,  on  the  point  of  making  a  third  mar 
riage,  and  still  another  was  divorced.  I  did  not 
mind  it  so  much,"  Kathy  continued  naively, 
"  where  she  was  concerned,  for  I  particularly  dislike 


136      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

the  idea  of  divorced  people.  And  it  has  to  be  ac« 
cepted  —  taken  for  granted  —  that  if  I  am  in  the 
room  with  a  divorced  person,  I  shall  talk,  by  irre 
pressible  instinct,  about  divorces  and  nothing  but 
divorces,  as  if  my  mind  were  full  of  the  subject. 
But  that  is  simple  justice  ;  don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Garthe  ?  Divorces  are  a  horror  to  me  ;  are  n't  they 
to  you  ?  " 

"  A  horror,"  said  Garthe.  "  A  living  horror,  it 
must  be." 

u  That  is  just  it,  —  a  living  horror,"  said  Kathy. 
"  So  uncomfortable  to  have  that  sort  of  a  ghost. 
Mr.  Marchmont  was  telling  me  about  being  at  a 
men's  dinner,  where  he  saw  two  unhappy-looking 
individuals  sitting  in  sombre  silence  looking  nei 
ther  to  right  nor  left,  while  everybody  else  was 
convivial.  *  What  is  the  matter  with  them  ?  '  he  in 
quired  of  somebody.  4  Are  they  mortal  enemies  ? ' 
4  Both  married  to  the  same  woman,'  was  the  reply  ; 
and  their  loss  of  a  pleasing  common  topic  of  con 
versation  was  explained." 

Garthe  smiled  discreetly ;  theft,  putting  by  the 
subject,  returned  to  the  former  one.  "  Tell  me, 
please,  how  Miss  Garner  regards  the  question  of  a 
widow's  marrying  again." 

Kathy  suddenly  became  confused.  "  Oh,  Con 
stance  approves  of  it,"  she  murmured,  growing 
scarlet. 

"  Very  sensibly.  I  fancy  she  generally  sees  a 
thing  simply  ;  has  quick  decision  of  mind  ;  is  very 
sincere." 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  137 

"  She  is  very  sincere,  never  tells  a  fib ;  yet  she 
never  gets  into  trouble  as  I  do.  No  dose  of  pop 
pies  is  needed  after  she  talks  with  people.  Even 
my  fibs  do  me  no  good,  —  I  am  always  found  out," 
said  Kathy  sadly. 

"  I  should  almost  like,"  said  Garthe,  "  to  be  able 
to .  suspect  Miss  Garner  of  insincerity.  If  she  is 
absolutely  truthful,  it  is  painfully  clear  that  she 
dislikes  me.  She  avoids  me,  —  looks  the  other 
way." 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Kathy,  laughing,  "  that 
there  is  nobody  she  likes  half  so  well,  approves  of 
half  so  much ;  she  is  always  praising  you.  Some 
times,"  she  added,  with  irresistible  mirth,  "  I  pick 
all  sorts  of  flaws  in  you,  just  to  get  up  an  argu 
ment."  Then,  having  said  so  much,  Kathy,  sud 
denly  abashed,  seemed  at  a  loss  which  way  to  look. 
In  fact,  such  an  unconquerable  fit  of  shyness  had 
come  over  her,  Garthe  needed  to  have  been  in 
tensely  preoccupied  not  to  be  curious  to  know  what 
had  caused  it. 

What  he  was  busy  thinking  about,  however, 
was  not  Kathy  at  all,  but  the  problem  which  Con 
stance's  whole  conduct  presented.  The  most  fin 
ished  coquette  could  have  done  no  more  to  stir, 
charm,  and  torment,  than  had  she  in  her  advan 
cing,  beckoning  as  it  were,  then  receding,  almost 
vanishing.  What  had  originally  been  a  mere  im 
pulse  to  test  himself,  to  assert  his  own  right  to  the 
simple,  everyday  pleasures  which  belong  to  every 


138      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

man,  now  became  a  passionate  wish,  somehow,  to 
reach  this  girl,  this  girl  with  her  clear,  luminous 
face  full  of  feeling  and  loyalty,  like  a  brave,  honest 
child's,  and  find  out  the  secret  of  her  enigmatical 
behavior. 

His  utter  forgetf ulness  of  everything  except  this 
wish  to  reach  her  was  something  incredible,  when 
one  considered  his  state  of  mind  a  month  or  two 
before.  He,  the  most  silent  of  men,  found  himself 
talking  at  a  dinner-table  in  a  way  to  insure  her  giv 
ing  him  a  glance.  He  had  had  a  different  life  from 
other  men,  and  could  touch  many  subjects  gener 
ally  left  untouched,  and  that,  too,  with  a  freshness 
and  fullness  of  meaning  which  commanded  atten 
tion.  When  the  light  of  her  glance  had  once  flashed 
through  him,  he  was  willing  to  be  silent  the  rest 
of  the  evening  ;  the  glow  and  fire  of  her  dark  eyes 
stayed  with  him,  warmed  him,  comforted  him. 
Again,  he  used  contrivance  to  force  her  to  shake 
hands  with  him,  when  he  could  detect  a  little  trem 
bling  in  her  fingers.  More  than  once,  in  the  way 
she  bit  her  lips  and  smiled  resolutely  when  thus 
brought  to  bay,  there  was  something  which  stirred 
his  whole  nature  almost  fiercely.  In  fact,  in  all 
these  challenges  flung  down  by  her  reserve,  there 
was  everything  to  rouse  the  resolution  and  the  pas 
sionate  will  of  a  man  like  Garthe  who,  when  once 
moved,  was  nothing  less  than  ardent.  Thus,  his 
thoughts  revolving  around  and  around  Constance, 
—  her  look,  her  manner,  the  least  detail  of  her 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  139 

behavior,  the  words  she  had  spoken  that  day  in  the 
street,  and  those  she  had  left  unsaid, —  he  had  no 
time  for  introspection,  for  groping  after  his  own 
motives,  for  questionings  of  his  own  position. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  after  wishing  for  weeks 
that  he  could  ask  her  to  deal  with  him  frankly,  the 
opportunity  came,  and  with  his  quick  practical 
sense  of  this  being  his  one  chance,  he  seized  it. 

He  had  heard  from  Kathleen  that  she  and  Con 
stance  were  going  to  the  opera  with  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner  that  evening,  and  in  the  way  he  did  every 
thing  now-a-days  without  stopping  to  decide  what 
must  be  the  result  of  this  pursuit,  he  set  out  for 
the  opera-house  as  soon  as  Larry  was  asleep.  He 
was  conscious,  as  he  was  always  conscious  now  in 
looking  forward  to  a  chance  of  meeting  Constance, 
of  a  heightened  state  of  nervous  tension,  of  a  joy 
ous  fever  like  that  he  had  sometimes  felt  when  on 
the  verge  of  some  discovery  or  invention. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the  opera-house 
he  encountered  John  Marchmont,  and  they  shook 
hands.  Garthe,  preoccupied  although  he  was,  was 
conscious  of  a  slight  constraint  in  the  manner  of 
the  older  man.  Something  had  seemed  to  flash 
into  his  eyes  the  moment  they  fell  on  Garthe. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  join  Mrs.  Chal- 
loner's  party,"  he  said. 

"Mrs.  Challoner  did  not  invite  me,"  Garthe 
answered.  "  I  may  look  in  ;  Mrs.  Garner  and  her 
daughter  are  with  her,  I  suppose." 


140      THE  STOEY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  I  have  just  left  Constance  sitting  alone  at 
home,"  said  John  Marchmont.  "She  did  not  feel 
quite  well ;  did  not  come  out ;  I  dined  with  her." 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  "  demanded  Garthe.  "  Too  ill  to 
see  a  visitor  ?  " 

"  She  has  a  slight  cold.  I  left  her  sitting  before 
the  fire  not  ten  minutes  ago,"  said  Mr.  Marchmont. 
A  load  seemed  taken  off  him  ;  he  smiled  at  Garthe, 
observing  with  relief  this  instant  bound  in  a  new 
direction. 

"I  wish  to  ask  Miss  Garner  a  question,"  the 
young  man  said  with  quick  decision.  "  I  will  try 
at  all  events  to  find  her."  He  was  off  in  a  flash. 

"  Miss  Garner  is  at  home  ?  "  he  said  to  the  ser 
vant  who  opened  the  door  of  the  house  on  Lexing 
ton  Avenue.  He  did  not  wait  to  be  announced. 
He  was  conscious  not  only  of  a  clear  purpose,  but 
of  a  vehemence  which  made  it  an  imperious  need 
to  act  upon  his  purpose.  He  threw  off  his  outside 
garment  and  walked  straight  into  the  drawing- 
room  where  Constance  sat  before  the  fire,  holding  a 
book  in  her  hand,  but  not  at  the  moment  reading. 
She  heard  footsteps,  looked  up,  and  saw  Garthe. 

He  had  gained  her  side  and  stood  looking  down 
with  a  serious,  unfaltering  look. 

"  Mr.  Marchmont  told  me  you  were  at  home,"  he 
said.  "  I  ventured  to  come.  I  had  a  particular 
wisli  to  see  you." 

She  had  not  risen.  There  was  no  reason  why 
she  should  rise,  but  she  was  conscious  of  her  pow- 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  141 

erlessness.  She  was  startled  by  his  advent,  and 
showed  it.  She  could  not  regain  her  self-command, 
but  sat  feeling  helpless.  He  took  her  hand  and 
looked  into  her  face. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  too  ill  to  receive  me,"  he 
said. 

44  No,  not  ill.  Perhaps  a  little  feverish.  I  caught 
at  an  excuse  for  not  going  out." 

"  I  have  wished  for  weeks  to  ask  you  a  ques 
tion,"  he  said,  not  yet  releasing  her  hand. 

"  Sit  down,  will  you  not  ? "  she  murmured  at 
last,  drawing  it  away,  "  I  am  sorry  that " 

"  Sorry  that  I  came  ?  " 

44  No,  we  are  always  glad  to  see  you.  I  am  sorry 
that  Kathy  is  away." 

He  smiled.  "  I  knew  that  she  was  at  the  opera. 
I  heard  that  you  were  here  alone." 

44  Kathy  "    —  she  began,  but  he  interrupted. 

"Miss  Garner,  with  every  one  else  you  are  a 
truthful  and  candid  person.  I  beseech  you  to  deal 
simply  with  me  to-night.  I  must  know  how  I 
stand  with  you." 

He  could  see  the  trouble  in  her  face  as  his  eyes 
held  hers.  He  went  on  :  — 

"  First,  —  do  you  remember  what  I  said  that 
day  at  Mr.  Marchmont's  ?  " 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  as  if  stifled.  "  Remem 
ber  it  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  it  very  well." 

"Did  I  offend  you?" 

44  Offend  me?" 


142      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

44  Yes,  did  I  offend  you?" 

44 1  have  tried  to  forget  it,"  she  murmured. 

"Why?" 

She  looked  at  him  appealingly,  then  withdrew 
her  glance. 

44 1  cannot  think  why  you  should  ask  me  such  a 
question,"  she  said  proudly.  u  If  it  had  to  be  for 
gotten,  it  had  to  be  forgotten." 

44  But  why  forgotten  ?  Did  it  displease  your 
taste,  your  conventional  sense,  or  your  conscience  ? 
Did  it  shock,  repel,  vex  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

44 1  have  said  to  myself  since,"  Garthe  went  on, 
44  when  I  found  you  withdrawn  from  me,  that  I  had 
overstepped  my  bounds.  Perhaps  you  will  remem 
ber  that  I  dropped  out  of  your  sight,  that  I  went 
back  to  the  poor  fragment  of  a  life  I  have  outside 
of  that  to  which  you  belong.  But  one  day  when 
I  encountered  you,  you  said  to  me  4  come,'  and  I 
came." 

She  shrank  a  little.  4'  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
it,"  she  said,  as  if  pierced  with  remorse. 

44  Because  you  were  not  sincere  ?  " 

44  Oh  yes,  I  was  sincere." 

44  Sincere  in  wishing  me  to  come,  or  in  liking 
me?" 

44  Sincere  in  wishing  you  to  come." 

44  You  do  not  like  me,  then,"  he  exclaimed. 

44 1  did  not  say  that,"  she  returned,  so  quickly 
it  seemed  to  be  a  point  of  conscience. 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  143 

"  But  you  have  been  less  — kind.  You  told  me 
to  come  again.  I  came,  of  course.  I  had,  in  com 
ing  again,  no  right  to  count  on  your  favor.  It 
would  be  absurd  self-conceit  in  me  to  complain 
that  you  have  avoided  me.  That  you  ever  seemed 
not  to  avoid  me  was,  I  suppose,  merely  your  gene 
rosity.  That  you  ever  seemed  to  encourage  me,  to 
draw  me  on,  was,  no  doubt,  because  you  discovered 
in  me  a  critically  apathetic  state  of  mind,  which, 
as  a  sweet  woman,  you  longed  to  cure.  And  you 
have  cured  it.  Instead  of  being  dull,  callous, 
dumb,  under  blows,  I  have  waked  up.  I  have  ven 
tured  to  see  and  feel,  almost  to  hope.  Especially 
that  day  at  Mr.  Marchmont's  I  was  happy  and  alive. 
The  thought  of  you  sitting  in  the  alcove  with  the 
sunset  light  on  your  face  has  come  up  to  me  again 
and  again.  If  I  were  to  live  a  hundred  years  I 
should  never  have  again  just  such  an  experience ; 
it  is  a  recollection  apart  from  anything  else,  held 
sacred,  everlastingly  renewed.  And,  Miss  Garner, 
I  could  have  sworn  that  day  you  did  not  dislike 
me." 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  then  dropped  them.  "  Oh, 
Mr.  Garthe,"  she  said  restlessly. 

"  I  am  unmanly  in  thus  pressing  you  to  the  wall ; 
still  I  am  most  a  man  in  saying  that  I  must  know 
just  how  and  why  I  displeased  you.  If  you  dislike 
me  I  will  go  away  instantly, — you  need  never  think 
of  me  again." 

Her  proud  young  face  was  something  to  watch 


144      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

as  she  tried  in  vain  to  raise  her  eyes.  Her  under 
lip  quivered. 

"  Shall  I  go  away  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Of  course  I  do  not  wish  you  to  go  away,"  she 
said  simply.  "  Kathy  and  I  have  enjoyed  your 
acquaintance  extremely." 

"  You !  When  you  have  avoided  me !  When 
you  have  tolerated  any  man,  any  woman,  an  album 
of  pictures,  a  screen  of  plants,  anything,  to  keep 
me  at  a  distance ! "  he  returned.  "  Do  not,  I  beg 
of  you,  swerve  away  from  my  direct  question.  It 
means  so  much  to  me.  Shall  I  go  away  ?  " 

He  bent  down  and  tried  to  read  the  expression 
of  her  face.  He  took  her  hands  in  one  of  his  and 
brought  down  the  other  upon  them. 

"  Speak,"  he  said  softly.     "  Am  I  to  go  away  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  whispered. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you." 

"  But "  —  she  began,  restless  under  this  fervor, 
trying  to  draw  her  hands  from  him. 

"But  what?" 

"  I  am  not  thinking  about  myself  in  this  matter. 
I  must  make  you  realize  that  I  am  not  thinking 
about  myself." 

"  I  only  ask  that  you  shall  think  a  little  of  me," 
.said  Garthe,  smiling.  "  It  is  only  fair.  I  myself 
have  done  nothing  of  late  except  to  think  of  you." 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  met  his.  He  saw  the 
play  of  a  dimple  on  her  cheek,  as  if  suddenly  re 
assured. 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  145 

"  Please  do  not,"  she  said  lightly,  yet  implor 
ingly. 

But  his  look,  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  over 
whelmed  her  anew.  Indeed,  his  whole  face  was 
transfigured  with  feeling.  What  had  originally 
sprung  from  an  impulse  merely  to  understand  the 
situation  had  become  an  overmastering  instinct  to 
push  the  situation  to  its  limit. 

"  Please  do  not  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Please  do  not  think  of  me." 

"  Do  not  ask  the  impossible.  Trust  me.  Dear 
est,  you  may  trust  me.  I  am  to  be  trusted." 

"  Then  please  let  go  my  hand." 

"  Do  you  not  trust  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  trust  you." 

He  released  her  hand,  but  her  exquisite  blush  — 
the  beautiful  soft  mildness  of  her  eyes  —  made  his 
heart  swell  with  the  sweetest  hope  he  had  ever  felt. 
He  watched  her  face  as  he  went  on  speaking 
rapidly. 

"  Yes,  you  are  safe  in  trusting  me.  I  will  claim 
nothing.  There  is  much,  however,  that  I  long  to 
understand.  At  first  you  made  me  welcome  here, 
—  then  you  put  barriers  between  yourself  and  me. 
Has  any  one  been  influencing  you  against  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no.     Do  not  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Yet  you  changed." 

Again  she  suffered  before  his  eyes.  He  studied 
her  face  as  he  studied  a  page  of  problems,  with  a 
knitted  brow.  He  forced  himself  to  review  the 


146      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

history  of  their  acquaintance.  His  insight  was 
swifter  than  his  logic.  With  a  single  leap  he 
reached  the  truth. 

"Understand  ine  once  for  all,  Constance,"  he 
said  in  a  soft,  clear  voice.  "  It  is  just  as  I  told  you 
that  day,  it  is  you  and  no  other.  No  other  woman 
exists  for  me." 

"  Then  I  have  done  very  wrong,"  she  said  with 
a  piteous  glance  and  tone.  "  I  have  made  a 
wicked  mistake." 

"  Dear,  I  have  had  one  single  feeling, —  that  you 
are  such  a  woman  as  I  had  never  yet  dreamed  of. 
I  have  had  no  choice  but  to  act  on  the  impulse 
which  drew  me  to  you.  I  do  not  know  how  to 
pretend.  I  had  no  reason  for  pretending." 

"  I  cannot  endure  to  have  you  tell  me  such 
things.  You  pught  not  to  flatter  me.  I  am  very 
unhappy." 

She  was  pale  and  looked  at  him  anxiously.  He 
had  drawn  a  chair  close  to  her,  and  at  last  sat 
down  facing  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  you  unhappy,"  he  said,  lean 
ing  nearer.  "  But  if  you  are  unhappy  about  me 
there  is  some  consolation  in  that." 

"  It  is  something  quite  different,"  said  Constance, 
almost  with  indignation.  "  How  can  you  jest  on 
such  a  subject  ?  " 

"  Jest  ?  If  you  knew  my  heart,  —  how  I  long  to 
fall  at  your  feet,  —  how  sweet  it  is  to  be  here,  yet 
how  little  I  dare  say  what  I  feel ! " 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  147 

She  extended  her  hand  with  a  little  gesture  ;  he 
caught  it  and  clasped  it  passionately. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that,"  she  said  hastily. 

"  I  take  anything  you  give  me.  I  am  the  merest 
beggar." 

Again  the  dimple  played  on  her  cheek.  Let  her 
try  as  she  might  to  control  the  situation,  it  controlled 
her.  In  spite  of  all  her  resolution,  all  her  will, 
all  her  wish,  he  disarmed  her  pride,  quieted  her 
alarm. 

"  I  want  you  to  forget  all  that  you  have  said," 
she  now  ventured  with  a  humble  glance. 

"  But  I  have  not  begun  to  say  it.  I  am  dying  to 
say  that  —  I  love  you,  love  you,  love  you." 

"  But  please,  Mr.  Garthe,  I  ask  you  to  go  back 
and  forget  all  that,  to  make  a  fresh  start.  If  you 
really  care  for  me  "  — 

"  If  I  really  care  for  you  !  " 

"  Then,"  she  said  softly,  "  you  will  do  what  I 
ask, — you  will  go  back  and  make  a  new  beginning." 

He  looked  at  her  intently.  He  did  not  catch  her 
meaning. 

"  There  is  no  possible  step  backward  in  life. 
You  cannot  put  back  the  full  leaf  into  the  bud." 

"  But  you  must  see  things  from  my  point  of 
view." 

"  I  will  try  to  do  so,  —  on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  That  you  will  remember  that  I  love  you, —  that 
I  desire  above  every  earthly  thing  to  have  you  for 


148      THE  STORY  OF  LA  WHENCE  GAETHE. 

my  wife.  You  will  not  forget  that,  my  dearest 
one  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  forget  it? "  she  said  rather  sadly 
under  her  breath.  Their  eyes  had  met  for  a  mo 
ment.  He  was  beloved, —  he  knew  that  he  was 
beloved. 

"  Now  tell  me  just  where  the  difficulty  comes  in," 
he  said. 

But  she  shivered.  It  was  not  easy  to  summon 
cold  logic  under  the  fire  of  his  eyes. 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  were  to  hazard 
a  bold  guess.  You  desire  everything  for  Kathy. 
Let  me  call  her  Kathy,  for  I  love  her  for  her  own 
sake  and  for  yours.  You  desire  everything  for 
her,  —  above  all  a  happy  second  marriage.  You 
feel  that  for  you  to  accept  love,  companionship, 
anything  personal  and  precious  to  yourself,  and 
leave  her  lonely  and  unmated,  seems  selfish  and 
cruel." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wonder,  exclaiming :  — 

"  Are  you  a  wizard,  to  read  my  thoughts?" 

"  I  am  a  wizard.  See  that  you  have  no  thoughts 
I  may  not  read."  He  smiled.  "  Here  is  another 
bold  guess.  When  you  saw  me,  you  said  to  your 
self,  '  Perhaps  this  man  may  do  for  Kathy.'  ' 

"  Surely  it  was  very  natural.  You  were 
young—" 

"  Go  on." 

44  We  heard  good  tilings  of  you.  Kathy  was 
attracted  by  you  ;  I  —  trusted  you  on  the  instant." 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  149 

"  You  can't  begin  to  think  how  it  flatters  me 
that  you  should  consider  me  half  good  enough  for 
Kathy,"  said  Garthe,  laughing  slightly.  "  I  know 
you  would  not  egoistically  insist  upon  having  some 
thing  better  than  you  designed  for  her.  I  venture 
to  infer  that " 

A  look  of  pain  had  come  over  her  face.  "  I  am 
not  thinking  of  myself.  I  do  not  dare  think  of 
myself." 

"  Not  yet,"  he  answered.  "  First,  we  are  to  pro 
vide  a  happy  future  for  Kathy.  But  I  see  one  all 
ready  for  her.  There  is  a  man  ready  and  eager  to 
take  the  responsibility  off  our  hands." 

"  Not  Mr.  Hartley !  " 

"  Certainly  not  Hartley.  Quite  a  different 
man." 

"  I  cannot  think  whom  you  mean." 

"  John  Marchmont." 

"  But  he  was  papa's  friend,"  cried  Constance, 
aghast.  "  We  have  known  him  always.  He 
regards  us  both  as  daughters." 

"  He  may  regard  you  as  a  daughter  ;  certainly  he 
has  no  such  feeling  towards  Kathy." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  No,  I  am  not  mistaken." 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  "  But  Kathy  is  not  in 
love  with  Mr.  Marchmont,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
distress,  as  if  Kathy  were  in  love  with  somebody 
else. 

"Don't   do    her   that    injustice,"    said   Garthe, 


150      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

almost  with  vehemence,  answering  not  her  words, 
but  the  meaning  behind  her  words.  "It  is  not 
true.  I  warn  you  not  to  believe  it.  How  dare 
you  ?  "  he  said,  bending  towards  her.  "  I  say,  how 
dare  you  give  her  to  the  man  who  loves  you?" 

"But  I  want  her  to  be  happy,"  faltered  Con 
stance,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "  If  you  —  could  — 
love  —  her  —  I  should  rejoice  —  I  —  " 

He  knitted  his  brow  and  looked  at  her  almost 
in  anger.  Then  his  face  cleared  and  he  laughed. 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  Marry  John  March- 
mont  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  marrying.  I  have 
never  had  any  wish  to  marry.  With  Kathy 
happy" 

"  She  will  be  happy  with  John  Marchmont,"  said 
Garthe.  "  Look  at  me,  Constance."  He  laid  his 
hand  on  hers  as  he  met  her  eyes.  "  I  could  not 
make  her  happy,"  he  said  quietly.  "  She  is  not  a 
woman  I  could  rest  upon,  and  believe  in,  and 
satisfy.  But  I  feel,  dear,  that  if  you  would  first 
love  me,  —  then  forgive  me  certain  things,  I  might 
make  you  very  happy." 

She  did  not  answer  except  with  a  soft  little  sigh, 
which  was,  he  knew,  for  Kathy. 

"  What  makes  you  think  Mr.  Marchmont  cares 
for  her  ?  "  she  finally  asked,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Something  in  the  way  he  watches  me ;  in  the 
relief  he  showed  to-night  when  I  spoke  of  coming 
to  see  you;  in  a  hundred  different  things.  Do 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."   151 

you  recall  how,  the  first  night  I  dined  here,  I 
picked  up  a  slipper,  —  an  adorable  little  slipper  ?  " 

"You  picked  it  up?  I  thought  it  was  Mr. 
Marchmont." 

"  It  was  I,  but  the  moment  his  eye  fell  on  it  he 
was  in  a  fever.  That  Hartley  or  I  should  touch, 
even  look  at  the  holy  thing,  was  profanation.  He 
stole  it  from  under  my  very  eyes.  I  confess  I 
always  wondered  what  the  sequel  was." 

He  looked  at  her,  wondering  to  see  her  quite 
downcast. 

"  Poor  Kathy,"  she  sighed.  "  I  do  wish,  I  can 
not  help  wishing  that " 

He  laid  his  hand  against  her  lips.  "  Don't  say 
it,"  he  murmured.  "  You  are  sure  to  repent  it. 
Some  day  you  will  be  wiser.  Evidently,  you  do 
not  know  what  it  is  for  a  man  to  be  in  love,  not  to 
say  a  woman." 

His  words  and  manner  drove  their  significance 
to  her  heart. 

"  I  treat  you  badly,"  she  faltered. 

"  Treat  me  as  badly  as  you  like,  so  long  as  you 
feel  that  our  fates  are  inter volved,  —  that  we  are 
one  in  desiring  the  very  best  that  can  happen  to 
Kathy." 

There  was  a  secret  intoxication  for  him  in  the 
conviction  that  she  was  holding  to  the  letter  of  the 
law  which  bade  her  give  tip  everything  dear  to 
her  step-mother,  but  that  in  spite  of  duty  of  con 
science,  she  was  already  half  conquered.  In  her 


152      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

indecision,  in  her  abnegation  of  self,  she  was 
almost  more  seductive  than  she  could  have  been  if 
she  had  instantly  accorded  all  he  asked  for.  The 
clear  evidence  that  the  idea  of  having  a  lover  of 
her  own  was  novel,  startling,  almost  displeasing, 
bewitched  his  sense. 

For  the  moment  he  said  no  more  to  rouse  con 
flict  in  her  mind.  Dismissing  fervor,  he  began  to 
talk  of  general  subjects,  showing  her  that  even  as 
a  lover  he  could  be  calm  and  self-contained.  It 
seemed,  too,  to  show  his  generosity  that  he  had  not 
been  wounded  by  her  lack  of  response.  A  little 
worn  and  weary,  she  had  sometimes  longed  for  a 
strong  directing  hand,  a  mind  answering  hers  with 
instant  comprehension  ;  but  she  had  not  expected 
it.  For  herself,  let  the  worst  happen  if  only 
Kathy  might  escape  the  sordid  ills  of  life  ;  that  had 
been  her  unhesitating  thought.  Now  as  Garthe 
talked  she  saw  his  clear-cut  face,  his  vivid  glance, 
with  a  new  sense  of  pleasure  and  of  relief.  The 
reality  of  his  position  towards  her,  contrasting  with 
the  decorous  flow  of  conversation,  deepened  the 
meaning  of  his  words  and  kindled  almost  a  roman 
tic  feeling. 

The  clock  chimed,  and  all  at  once  she  started. 

"  What  is  it?"  he  demanded. 

"  She  will  be  coming  home." 

"  Kathy  ?  You  prefer  she  should  not  find  me 
here?" 

She  nodded.      Both  had  risen.     Their  eyes  met, 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."   153 

not  casually,  but  with  the  sense  of  a  supreme 
moment. 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  he  said.  She  extended 
timidly  a  fair,  white  hand.  "Is  it  mine?"  he 
asked,  raising  it  and  bending  as  if  to  put  his  lips 
to  it. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  she  cried  ;   "  not  to-night." 
"  Not  to-night,"  he  repeated,  "  but  —  " 
He  saw  that  she  pulsed  with  eagerness  to  have 
him  go  away.     He  knew  her  motive,  and  it  vindi 
cated  her  coldness.     He  did  not  linger.     When  he 
was  in  the  street,  he  found  himself  excited  to  fever- 
heat.      He  had  been  aware  that  while  talking  to 

O 

Constance,  a  gayety,  long  unknown  to  his  habit  but 
still  unexhausted  in  his  nature,  had  almost  caught 
him  up  and  carried  him  away  ;  but  not  until  this 
moment  did  he  realize  the  intensity  of  his  exulta 
tion  over  his  achievement.  He  himself  had  not 
foreseen  just  how  far  the  logic  of  the  situation  was 
to  compel  him.  But  she  loved  him.  He  thought 
over  each  detail  of  the  three  hours  he  had  spent 
with  her.  He  would  have  had  nothing  different. 
Again  and  again  he  repeated  her  last  words,  "  No, 
no,  no,  not  to-night,"  feeling  that  their  meaning 
was  not  denial,  but  surrender.  How  sweet,  how 
naive,  how  good  she  was  !  While  he  talked  to  her 
he  had  been  conscious  of  her  keen  intelligence,  be 
sides  her  sympathy ;  not  that  of  a  mere  clever 
woman  whose  object  is  to  bring  out  what  is  in  a 
man  in  order  to  display  her  own  wit  and  assimilate 


154      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

his  knowledge,  but  that  of  a  loving  heart  which 
penetrates,  divines,  and  feels. 

His  brain  was  thrilled,  his  heart  was  warmed,  his 
whole  nature  kindled  by  a  sense  of  this  higher 
life,  this  swifter  stirring  of  the  intellect  and  pulses 
she  could  give  him.  He  began  to  feel  a  rebellious 
longing  for  the  kiss  she  had  made  him  forego.  He 
wanted  her  tangibly,  palpably,  here  at  his  side. 
I  low  little  he  had  said,  after  all,  —  not  a  word  of 
his  perpetual  thought  of  her,  his  loneliness  without 
her,  —  the  cry  of  his  soul  for  her  soul.  He  almost 
dreaded  to  go  home. and  meet  the  midnight  hush  in 
his  house ;  the  soft  hiss  of  the  burning  fire  ;  the 
lamp  lighted  and  shaded  for  reading  ;  the  sense  of 
little  Larry  upstairs  asleep ;  the  solitude  below, 
with  its  terrible  need  of  a  presence  which  rested, 
soothed,  sustained. 

With  this  thought,  a  significant  bubble  broke  up 
from  the  deeps  of  his  passionate  reverie.  He 
stopped  short  in  the  street.  lie  had  suddenly  real 
ized  that  this  fervor  of  feeling  he  had  expended  and 
was  expending  must  be  paid  for.  He,  of  all  men, 
could  least  afford  to  give  up  his  adherence  to  cool 
and  candid  reason. 

He  had  halted  opposite  an  open  square.  The 
night  was  foggy  ;  the  electric  lights  gave  strange 
effects  to  the  vapors  out  of  which  steeples,  roofs, 
towers,  and  statues  loomed  up  tremendously  magni 
fied.  Some  of  the  buildings  looked  like  giants  with 
burning  eyes  ;  the  commonest  sight  seemed  weird 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  Jf#."   155 

and  fantastic.  Garthe,  at  this  moment  of  reaction 
from  a  great  happiness  into  a  sombre  mood,  saw 
something  almost  threatening  in  this  strange  aspect 
of  things :  in  the  intensely  luminous  light  which 
was  not  light,  contrasting  with  the  darkness  which 
was  not  so  much  darkness  as  a  yawning  gulf  of 
blackness  invading  the  province  of  the  light.  Far 
above  glimmered  a  wan  moon,  showing  to-night 
no  white  fire  to  consume  the  smouldering  residue 
of  spent  cloud,  but  focusing  its  pallid  image  at  the 
end  of  a  long  shining  tunnel  of  fog.  A  ghostly 
night,  —  a  night  to  give  the  lie  to  hope  ;  to  annihi 
late  at  a  breath  color,  warmth,  passion.  In  spite  of 
sounds  from  the  streets,  from  the  elevated  railways, 
which  told  that  the  stir,  the  life,  the  movement  of 
the  city  were  not  all  at  an  end,  it  was  a  night  to  in 
spire  the  belief  that  everything  was  dead. 

While  Garthe  stood,  undecided  whether  to  go 
home  or  whether  to  continue  his  walk,  all  at  once, 
out  of  a  confused  group  of  figures  at  the  corner, 
one  separated  itself  and  approached  him. 

"  I  thought  it  was  you,  Lawrence,"  said  Ferdi 
nand  Hartley's  cheery  voice.  "  What  are  you  do 
ing  here  at  midnight  ?  " 

"  I  am  on  my  way  home,"  said  Garthe.  "  I 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  fog,  —  it  moves 
across  the  square  like  an  army  of  ghosts." 

"  Beastly  night,"  said  Hartley.  "  I  advise  you 
not  to  stand  too  long  and  let  the  dampness  pene 
trate  your  vitals." 


156      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  Are  you  going  to  your  room  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Come  on  with  me." 

"  I  '11  walk  with  you  as  far  as  your  door.  I 
have  n't  seen  you  lately." 

"  Nor  I  you.  But  then,  I  have  dropped  all  my 
old  friends,"  said  Hartley,  with  a  sort  of  chuckle. 

"  Something  more  interesting  ?" 

O  O 

"  Something  more  engrossing.  Oh,  by  the  way, 
Lawrence,  you  know  Montana,  —  did  you  ever 
happen  to  hear  of  a  man  by  the  name  of  Aurelio 
Hernandez  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  a  little  dried-up  Mexican,  and  as  bad  as 
they  make  them,  which  is,  I  assure  you,  pretty  bad." 

"Rich?" 

"  Said  to  be  very  rich.  He  had  swindled  twenty 
better  men  out  of  their  claims  and  had  got  almost 
complete  possession  of  two  mines.  Besides,  he 
owned  more  than  one  ranch,  and  controlled  large 
interests  in  half  a  dozen  different  directions." 

"  Did  you  ever  happen  to  see  his  wife  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  that  he  had  a  wife." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  He  might  have  been  married  all  the  time. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?  The  man  is  dead  ;  I  saw  some 
time  ago  he  was  killed  by  falling  down  a  shaft." 

"  That  was  true,  then !  "  said  Hartley,  in  a  tone 
as  if  of  relief. 

Garthe  looked  at  Hartley. 

"  Why  are  you  interested  in  that  old  miser  ?  " 
he  inquired. 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  157 

"  I  know  his  widow,"  said  Hartley  significantly. 
"  I  have  just  come  from  the  Percy,  where  she  is 
spending  the  winter." 

"  Is  she  the  new  and  engrossing  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  She  is." 

"  What  kind  of  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Quite  unexceptionable  ;  unimpeachable  credit ; 
brings  letters ;  has  a  companion  who  never  leaves 
her  alone  " 

"  Rich,  I  take  it,  if  she  comes  in  for  Hernandez's 
money,"  said  Garthe  dryly. 

"  Everything  seems  irresistibly  to  point  to  that 
conclusion,"  answered  Hartley  lightly.  "  I  'm  not 
wholly  disinterested.  You  know  my  necessities ; 
indeed,  who  should  know  them  better  ?  I  have  but 
one  ambition  ;  that  is,  to  see  my  way  clear  to  the 
possession  of  some  of  the  elegancies  and  refinements 
of  life.  I  should  like  to  have  no  sordid  considera 
tions.  I  should  prefer  to  be  able  myself  to  offer 
the  woman  I  love  all  the  luxuries  which  wealth  can 
give.  Failing  this,  why  should  not  the  woman  who 
loves  me  offer  me  all  the  riches  her  late  husband 
left  her?" 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  trying  to  marry  this 
widow  of  old  Hernandez  ?  " 

"Why  not,  if  lean?" 

"  How  old  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  is  young  ;  that  is,  young  enough,  and  hand 
some,  —  splendid  dark  hair  and  eyes,  rich  bloom, 
Southern  blood  in  her  veins.  I  wish  you  would 
go  with  me,  some  evening,  to  see  her." 


158      TUE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  but  I  should  be  in  the 
way." 

"  Not  at  all,  and  as  you  both  know  the  West "  — 

"  I  hate  the  West."  cried  Garthe  with  sudden 
angry  scorn.  "  I  hate  every  suggestion  of  the  life 
there.  If  I  had  iny  choice,  I  would  never  meet 
anybody  who  had  crossed  the  Mississippi.  I  say 
to  myself,  the  old  life  at  the  West  is  over,  it  is  fin 
ished,  it  is  dead,  —  I  have  no  longer  any  part  in  it, 
or  it  in  me !  I  hate  the  very  ghost  of  it." 

"  Mrs.  Hernandez  is  not  much  fonder  of  her  ex 
perience  there  than  you  seem  to  be,"  said  Hartley, 
laughing. 

"  Let  me  see ;  you  say  she  is  dark-haired,  dark- 
eyed?" 

"Yes.  You  recall  her?"  demanded  Hartley 
eagerly. 

"  Oh,  no.     I  simply  asked.     She  is  really  hand- 

O  99 

some  : 

"At  times  quite  superb,  —  overdresses  a  little, 
but  still  gets  herself  up  effectively.  She  is  amus 
ing,  naive  as  a  child,  and  says  with  singular  frank 
ness  everything  that  comes  into  her  head,  —  partly 
in  order  to  shock  her  duenna,  perhaps." 

"  The  Spaniards  have  a  proverb,  4  Who  says  all 
soon  arrives  at  all. 

"  She  is  discreet,  even  if  not  quite  conventional. 
Many  a  woman  in  the  best  society  does  things 
more  out  of  taste.  She  means  to  improve,  and  will 
improve.  I  wish  you  would  come  with  me  to  see 
her." 


159 

"  No,  thank  you,  and  don't  mention  me  to  her." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  did  n't  like  the  late  Hernandez,  although  he 
once  paid  me  the  compliment  of  offering  me  five 
hundred  dollars  a  month  ;  then,  when  I  declined,  was 
willing  to  double  the  sum.  I  told  him  frankly  I 
would  not,  at  any  price,  have  anything  to  do  with 
him,  —  that  I  detested  him." 

"  Oh,  I  see ;  you  think  she  will  bear  you  a 
grudge,"  said  Hartley.  They  had  reached  his  place. 
"  Will  you  come  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

Garthe  said  it  was  time  to  go  home.  They  shook 
hands  and  parted.  Their  talk  had  not  lasted  ten 
minutes,  but  the  experience  had  seemed  strangely 
to  separate  Garthe  from  his  former  mood,  and  the 
gap  and  chasm  did  not  fill  up. 

He  tried  to  bring  back  the  image  of  Constance, 
close  beside  him,  her  hand  in  his  own ;  her  face  in 
stinct  with  feeling;  her  lovely  eyes,  opening  full 
on  his  for  a  moment,  then  dropping  their  lids,  — 
but  something  interposed  with  warning  finger.  He 
suddenly  saw  his  conduct  in  a  different  light.  Had 
he  gone  to  her  that  night  with  deliberation,  he  must 
have  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  say  to  her,  "  Be 
my  wife,"  without  first  enlightening  her  fully  upon 
every  point  of  his  own  history.  For  a  moment  he 
was  ready  to  regard  himself  as  a  vulgar  schemer 
who,  to  compass  his  ends,  resorts  to  any  sort  of 
machinations.  The  very  belief  in  his  trustworthi 
ness  which  he  had  imposed  upon  her,  as  if  he  had 


160      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GslRTHE. 

a  right  to  be  a  second  conscience  in  which  she  could 
find  her  best  courage  and  her  best  strength,  was 
now  a  recollection  to  rouse  scruples,  to  stir  remorse. 
He  had  acted  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as 
scruples,  as  if  there  were  only  events  ;  as  if  laws, 
moral  and  social,  did  not  exist,  and  as  if  a  man 
were  necessarily  the  slave  of  circumstances.  He 
had,  indeed,  acted  in  a  way  in  which  it  seemed 
inconceivable  he  should  have  acted.  He  had  not 
even  made  allusion  to  his  marriage,  to  his  boy 
Larry,  the  lonely  little  fellow  into  whose  life  she 
would  bring  as  much  joy  as  into  his  own. 

A  cold  fear  crept  about  his  heart;  the  old 
trouble  revived,  the  dread  of  daring  to  hope  anything, 
count  on  anything ;  the  old  sense  of  defeat  and  hu 
miliation,  which  made  him  feel  like  clasping  Larry 
in  his  arms,  and  going  to  hide  himself  and  him  in 
some  strange  land,  as  if  they  were  both  irremediably 
sullied  and  tainted.  How  had  he  dared  to  take 
life  simply,  as  if  he  possessed  the  same  right  as 
other  men  to  claim  what  he  aspired  to !  He  halted 
again  in  the  lonely  street,  and  looked  up  at  the 
cloudy  sky,  where  the  moon  showed  only  the  centre 
of  a  luminous  space,  which  formed  a  bright  sphere 
above  the  depths  of  gloom. 

"She  is  as  much  separated  from  me  and  my 
destiny,"  he  said  audibly,  "  as  that  light  from  this 
darkness,  —  as  that  heaven  from  this  hell." 

Then  even  as  he  gazed  up,  feeling  defiant,  proud, 
unutterably  wretched  at  heart,  wishing  that  he 


"SHE  SHOULD  NOT  HAVE  LOOKED  AT  ME."  161 

might  die  and  suffer  no  more,  all  at  once  the  clouds, 
torn  across  by  a  sudden  gust,  parted,  and  the 
moon  shone  out  unobscured ;  while,  still  clearing 
away  the  murky  vapors,  the  wind  went  on,  and 
opening  vistas  into  the  dark  blue  vault  disclosed 
the  Pleiades,  Orion,  the  Great  Bear,  and  the  whole 
shining  galaxy. 

The  sight,  even  if  it  did  not  brighten  Garthe, 
sustained  him.  If  Constance  loved  him,  —  and  he 
believed  she  loved  him  already  a  little,  and  would 
love  him  more,  —  she  would  look  unflinchingly  into 
his  past,  understand  it  and  him  in  it,  with  absolute 
acceptance,  with  absolute  sympathy.  There  could 
be  no  use  in  his  despair,  in  his  disgust,  in  his  rage 
against  his  fate.  Long  ago  he  had  shed  all  his 
tears,  exhausted  all  his  surprise  that  that  bitter, 
that  accursed  taint  should  have  come  upon  his  life. 
What  he  had  had  to  do,  what  he  still  had  to  do, 
was  to  keep  from  despair,  from  murmuring,  from 
cavil  and  doubt  of  the  worth  of  anything  in  God's 
universe ;  to  go  on  as  a  man  should  go  on,  testing 
his  own  sincerity,  accepting  nothing  from  happy 
chance,  from  trick  or  effort  to  shape  events  to  his 
own  ends. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BELLA   AND   EUGENIA. 

GARTHE,  in  their  brief  interview,  had  observed 
that  Ferdinand  Hartley's  old  blitheness  of  heart 
had  returned.  In  fact,  what  Mrs.  Hernandez's 
admirer  experienced  now-a-days  was  a  subtle  sense 
of  humor  in  the  situation,  besides  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  he  was  a  bold  man  hazarding  an  experi 
ment.  Hitherto  anything  outside  his  own  set  had 
been  outside  the  world  ;  not  to  know  certain  people, 
not  to  be  included  in  certain  coteries,  was  not  to 
exist.  Now  his  mind  was  expanded  for  a  larger  view 
of  things.  This  paltry  world  of  New  York,  in  which 
he  had  hitherto  lived,  moved,  and  had  his  being, 
had  done  little  or  nothing  for  him.  There  were  new 
worlds  to  conquer  ;  with  plenty  of  money  one  might 
live  well  in  London,  in  Paris,  even  in  Japan. 
There  is  a  foolish  and  cowardly  fastidiousness 
which  narrows  a  man  and  limits  his  chances  ;  he 
would  have  no  more  of  it.  His  scheme  was  to  make 
himself  indispensable  to  Mrs.  Hernandez,  not -to 
increase  her  knowledge  of  the  world  in  a  way  to 
lessen  her  need  of  him  ;  rather  to  centre  and  concen 
trate  her  belief  in  her  dependence  upon  him  ;  in 
short,  to  become  her  husband. 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  163 

She  was  rarely  out  of  his  thoughts.  Standing 
at  the  window  of  his  club  and  watching  women  go 
by,  he  compared  them  with  her,  not  unf  requently  to 
her  advantage  and  their  disadvantage.  She  often 
disappointed  him,  often  shocked  him  when  he  was 
prepared  to  admire;  still  she  had  a  style  of  her 
own  which  was  effective,  often  rather  diabolically 
effective.  Of  course,  a  man  must  stand  in  his 
position  in  order  to  distinguish  certain  flaws  in  her 
as  jealously  as  Hartley  was  obliged  to  do.  He  had 
speculated  a  good  deal  as  to  whether  she  could  not 
be  induced  to  subdue  herself  to  the  general  tone 
and  color  of  society ;  and  it  was  probably  when  he 
despaired  a  little  of  her  reaching  a  fuller  apprehen 
sion  of  certain  niceties  that  he  was  ready  to  con 
gratulate  himself  that  there  existed  outside  this 
paltry  little  New  York  world  the  larger  world  of 
Paris,  London,  or  Japan,  as  a  more  liberal  school 
of  manners.  For  although  he  flattered  himself 
upon  his  influence  over  Mrs.  Hernandez,  or  Bella, 
as  he  began  to  call  her  to  himself,  there  was  at 
times  an  unexpected  quality  about  her  which  made 
him  feel  doubts  whether  he  perfectly  understood 
the  mainspring  of  the  mechanism.  Not  even  Miss 
Shepard  could  invariably  control  it.;  although  at  the 
first  sign  of  exuberance,  not  to  say  boisterousness, 
she  showed  a  frown  between  her  brows  and  a 
sparkle  in  her  yellow  eyes  which  betokened  disap 
probation.  "  Yet,"  Hartley  pondered,  "  just  give 
Bella  an  assured  position  and  her  motto  of  '  Je  suis 


164      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

ce  que  je  suis,  so  take  me  as  I  am  and  make  the 
best  of  me,'  would  be  in  her  favor.  Such  women 
rule  the  world  just  because  they  love  sensation, 
enjoy  their  own  success,  and  make  the  most  of  it." 
But  an  assured  position  is  not  to  be  picked  up 
at  the  first  corner,  and,  meanwhile,  Hartley  and  the 
Roylances  contrived  amusements  for  the  rich  and 
pretty  widow,  who,  so  long  as  she  was  not  left  with 
out  homage  and  without  entertainment,  preferred 
to  pause  a  little  on  the  brink  and  not  make  a 
plunge  to  gain  the  mid-current.  She  liked,  she 
said,  to  look  on ;  to  study  out  clews,  to  speculate, 
to  ask  questions.  Indeed,  Hartley  sometimes  sus 
pected  her  of  tremors.  She  was  interested  in  her 
business  affairs,  spent  much  time  with  her  lawyer, 
and  liked  to  understand  the  ins  and  outs  of  the 
least  negotiation ;  and  with  these  occupations  and 
with  somebody  to  turn  to,  to  listen,  flatter,  and 
applaud,  she  seemed  quite  contented  with  the 
superficial  character  of  her  social  diversions.  There 
was  probably  excitement  of  a  high  degree  simply 
in  the  ordering  and  wearing  of  her  gowns.  She 
made  a  weekly  dinner  for  the  Roylances  and  for 
some  of  Miss  Shepard's  friends,  accepted  a  few 
invitations  from  them,  attended  lectures  and  meet 
ings  occasionally  when  Eugenia  spoke  or  cooperated 
with  others ;  but  it  was  clear  to  Hartley  that  what 
she  really  looked  forward  to  and  depended  on  was 
his  own  frequent  visits  :  with  him  her  vitality  was 
always  aglow,  her  inquisitiveness  always  alert,  her 
desire  for  an  audience  gratified. 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  165 

One  evening  in  January,  when  he  had  been  in 
vited  to  dinner,  he  found,  to  his  satisfaction,  on 
arriving,  that  he  was  the  only  guest. 

"  I  am  tired  of  all  the  other  people  I  know,'* 
Mrs.  Hernandez  said  frankly,  as  she  shook  hands 
with  him.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  disappointed,  but 
you  will  see  no  one  except  Eugenia  and  me." 

Hartley,  who  could  say  such  things  as  well  as 
most  men,  expressed  his  pleasure  that  there  was  no 
party. 

"They  say,"  continued  Mrs.  Hernandez,  "that 
two  are  company  and  three  are  a  crowd ;  but 
Eugenia  and  I  are  to  all  intents  and  purposes  one. 
—  body  and  soul  you  might  call  us." 

"  I  quite  disclaim  the  idea  of  being  merged  in 
any  other  person's  identity,"  said  Miss  Shepard. 
"  Whatever  I  am,  I  am  Eugenia  Shepard  ;  whatever 
faults  or  virtues  I  possess,  they  are  my  own." 

"  She  wishes  not  to  be  responsible  for  mine," 
said  Mrs.  Hernandez  gayly.  "  But  all  the  same 
she  is  my  conscience-keeper." 

"The  keeper  of  your  conscience  has  no  very 
heavy  burden  to  carry,"  said  Miss  Shepard  with 
her  grim  smile. 

These  railleries  were  not  without  charm  for 
Hartley,  showing  as  they  did  a  good  understanding 
between  the  two  women.  For,  let  him  admire  Mrs. 
Hernandez  as  he  might,  it  was  Miss  Shepard  in 
whom  he  actually  trusted  and  believed,  whose  men 
tal  stability  gave  worth  to  Mrs.  Hernandez's  money, 


160      THE  STORY  OF  LA  WHENCE  GARTHE. 

whose  seriousness  gave  substance  to  her  levity, 
whose  altruism  balanced  her  self-love. 

Mrs.  Hernandez's  good  looks  were  set  off  to 
night  with  peculiar  piquancy  by  an  airy  black 
gown  sparkling  with  jet.  Round  neck  and  wrists 
she  wore  chains  of  Indian  gold  with  filigree  pen 
dants,  and  in  her  curls  and  braids  were  pins  of 
the  same  beautifully  worked  metal.  She  had,  per 
haps,  rather  a  savage  taste  for  ornaments,  Hartley, 
habitually  critical,  said  to  himself,  but  they  be 
came  her.  She  possessed  a  style  of  her  own,  and 
what  her  actual  beauty  did  not  effect  a  certain 
verve  and  vitality  easily  could.  Then,  too,  when 
a  woman  is  pretty,  the  fact  that  she  is,  besides, 
a  rich  woman  gives  the  least  of  her  attractions  a 
point  and  an  edge. 

"  Let  us  have  dinner  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Her 
nandez  to  the  man  in  attendance.  He  drew  back 
the  curtains  and  disclosed  a  beautiful  little  table  in 
the  alcove,  all  silver  and  crystal,  with  a  great  bowl 
of  Catherine  Mermet  roses  in  the  centre.  They 
went  out  together,  and  the  servant  drew  the  chair 
opposite  the  hostess  for  the  guest ;  but,  as  if  he  did 
not  observe  it,  Hartley  took  a  place  at  his  hostess's 
right  hand. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  her  spar 
kling  ironical  glance,  "  you  decline  to  take  the  foot 
of  the  table." 

"  Great  as  is  my  ambition,"  replied  Hartley,  "  I 
am  still  too  modest  to  take  such  a  place  unless  it 
fairly  belongs  to  me." 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  167 

"  Is  it  that  you  are  modest,"  she  retorted,  "  or 
that  your  motto  is  '  All  or  nothing  '  ?  " 

"You  define  it  exactly,"  said  Hartley,  turning 
his  laughing  blue  eyes  full  upon  her.  "  I  will  have 
all  or  nothing." 

"Just  as  well  to  leave  the  place  empty,"  said 
Mrs.  Hernandez  laughing.  "  It  leaves  something 
to  the  imagination." 

"  Let  us  trust  that  no  ghost  of  Banquo  will  rise 
to  fill  it,"  said  Hartley  idly,  simply  to  carry  on  the 
jest.  Kather  to  his  dismay,  at  his  words  Mrs. 
Hernandez  gave  a  visible  shudder,  and  said  hur 
riedly  to  the  servant,  — 

"  Take  the  things  away,  —  the  chair,  and  the 
glasses,  and  knives,  and  forks.  I  have  the  most 
childish  horror  of  ghosts,"  she  added,  with  another 
shiver,  glancing  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other 
of  her  companions. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Hartley  soothingly.  He  was 
conscious  not  only  of  his  own  awkwardness,  but  of 
the  singularity  of  her  minding  such  a  hackneyed 
allusion.  To  change  the  subject,  he  began  talking 
at  once  about  a  great  ball  which  they  had  attended 
the  night  before.  Mrs.  Hernandez  had  taken  a 
box.  He  had  spent  some  time  with  her  and  Miss 
Shepard,  pointing  out  certain  notable  people,  and 
afterwards  they  had  watched  him  as  he  joined  one 
group  after  another  in  the  circle  or  on  the  floor. 

"  I  felt  very  much  flattered  that,  with  so  many 
friends,  you  had  wasted  any  time  on  poor,  insignifi 
cant  me,"  observed  Mrs.  Hernandez. 


168       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTH E. 

"  That  was  the  only  part  of  the  evening  1  en 
joyed,"  said  Hartley. 

"  But  so  many  beautiful  ladies,  so  many  charm 
ing  girls ! " 

"  Keflect  that  I  am  an  old  stager ;  that  I  en 
tered  society  eight  or  nine  years  ago ;  that  all  my 
set  were  long  since  married  off ;  that  the  new  ones 
are  made  up  of  boys  and  girls  I  have  patted  on  the 
head,  and  who  regard  me  as  an  antique,  —  some 
thing  left  over  from  the  last  century.  I  cannot 
dance  to  their  piping." 

"  To  whose,  then  ? "  Mrs.  Hernandez  asked 
coquottishly. 

"  If  I  am  ambitious,  I  had  better  conceal  tho 
height  and  breadth  of  my  ambition." 

Her  eyes  sparkled.  "  I  like  to  think  you  are 
ambitious.  One  has  to  be  ambitious  in  this  world  !  " 
she  exclaimed  eagerly.  u  One  has  to  take  one's 
life  in  both  hands  and  squeeze  what  one  wants  out 
of  it  as  if  it  were  an  orange." 

"Then  throw  the  rind  away,"  suggested  Miss 
Shepard. 

"  If  one  can,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez,  with  a  little 
sigh.  "  I  often  exult  over  my  success,  but  it  is  a 
little  bit  spoiled.  Eugenia  is  the  really  lucky  wo 
man.  What  I  wanted  was  money,  luxury,  every 
body's  admiration.  Now,  in  the  very  nature  of 
things,  I  find  all  sorts  of  obstacles  in  my  way. 
What  I  want  depends  on  other  people  ;  on  my  be- 
1:13  young,  in  good  health,  and  above  all  good  spir- 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  169 

its.  The  moment  I  am  sick  or  sorry,  everything  I 
have  is  detestable  to  me.  But  Eugenia  has  never 
asked  for  anything  except  to  understand  things  all 
through  and  deep  down.  She  does  not  want  people 
to  admire  her,  to  flatter  her ;  she  does  not  crave 
wealth,  authority,  social  preeminence.  She  simply 
wants  "  — 

"  I  am  very  anxious  to  make  money,"  interrupted 
Eugenia  sharply. 

"  To  send  to  her  relations,  to  do  good  with.  She 
doesn't  care  about  gowns,  silk  stockings,  gold 
chains,  and  brooches,"  Mrs.  Hernandez  went  on,  in 
the  highest  spirits.  "  Often,  when  we  are  out,  I 
tell  her  to  buy  anything  she  takes  a  fancy  to,  and 
that  I  will  settle  the  bill ;  but  if  she  condescends 
to  accept  my  offer,  it  is  to  get  hold  of  something 
strong,  durable,  ugly." 

"  Well,  tastes  differ,"  said  Eugenia. 

"  That  is  true.  Tastes  do  differ  extraordinarily. 
I  sometimes  doubt,  Mr.  Hartley,  whether  Eugenia 
and  I  actually  belong  to  the  same  species  ;  but 
perhaps  it  is  only  a  difference  in  taste.  She  enjoys 
women's  meetings,  women's  clubs,  women's  classes. 
She  likes  to  discuss  grievances  against  husbands, 
against  employers,  against  servants,  against  every 
thing  moral  and  religious  ;  for  everybody  has  some 
sure  way  to  urge  of  reforming  husbands  and  other 
evils,  —  divorce,  suffrage,  cooperation,  socialism, 
hypnotism,  spiritualism,  or  Buddhism." 

"  She  is  as  much  fascinated  by  it  all  a&  I  am," 
said  Eugenia  to  Hartley. 


170      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  I  go  along  with  her,  it  is  true,"  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez  explained.  "  I  like  to  see  the  different  women. 
I  study  them,  and  I  listen,  and  am  sometimes  in 
terested  and  sometimes  amused.  Often,  too,  I  am 
bored,  bored  to  death.  You  see,  I  have  had  my 
grievances  in  my  time,  and  I  know  the  fallacy  of 
their  ready-made  remedies." 

"  I  do  not  see  any  reason  for  your  finding  fault 
with  the  universe,"  said  Hartley.  "  With  all  re 
spect  for  Miss  Shepard's  views,  I  think  women 
most  admirable  when  they  do  not  air  their  griev 
ances." 

"So  long  as  I  am  young,  rich,  and  have  new 
gowns,  I  intend  to  redress  mine  without  talking  too 
much  about  them,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez  gayly. 
She  stopped,  and  looked  at  her  guest.  "  Are  you 
enjoying  your  dinner  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  An  excellent  dinner  so  far." 

"  We  are  ladies,  and  our  tastes  may  not  please 
you.  Order  anything  you  may  happen  to  prefer." 

"  A  capital  dinner,"  said  Hartley  again.  "  I  ask 
no  better." 

"  They  like  me  downstairs,"  she  went  on.  "  They 
are  anxious  to  please  me.  Eugenia  says  that  my 
idea  of  what  is  good  is  whatever  is  most  expensive. 
I  am  a  favorite  with  everybody  who  has  anything 
to  sell.  The  shop-people  adore  me.  I  do  not 
haggle.  I  do  not  turn  over  all  the  goods  on  the 
counter  without  buying,  and  promise  to  call  another 
time.  I  simply  say, '  Show  me  the  best  you  have  ; ' 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  171 

then,  if  it  is  handsome  enough,  I  say,  '  Send  it  to 
the  Percy.'  " 

"  Most  probably,"  said  Eugenia  unfalteringly, 
"  they  laugh  in  their  sleeve  at  you.  They  see  at  a 
glance  that  you  have  no  experience,  no  nice  choice, 
no  nice  discrimination  ;  that  you  simply  have  money 
to  fling  about.  They  say  to  each  other  that  you 
must  have  a  gold  mine  behind  you,  and  you  will 
soon  be  at  the  end  of  it." 

"  Luckily  I  have  got  a  gold  mine  behind  me," 
said  Mrs.  Hernandez,  meeting  Miss  Shepard's 
strictures  with  absolute  good-nature.  "  I  have  no 
objection  to  being  thought  rich.  Money  is  the 
universal  touchstone.  Everybody  loves  it  and  de 
sires  it  above  all  things."  She  turned  to  the  man 
behind  her  chair.  "  Just  give  me  the  salver  on  the 
little  table  by  the  door,"  she  said  ;  and  when  he 
brought  it,  she  made  a  motion  directing  him  to  put 
it  beside  Hartley.  "  There  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in 
triumph.  "  I  sent  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars 
to  each  of  three  charities,  and  all  these  people 
have  been  to  see  me." 

Hartley  turned  over  the  cards.  Mrs.  Challoner's 
was  among  them. 

"They  are  excellent  names,"  he  said  thought 
fully. 

"  All  the  same,  it  is  an  expensive  way  of  getting 
into  society,"  remarked  Eugenia. 

"  This  is  a  give-and-take  world,"  replied  Hartley. 

"  I  am  not  easily  deluded,"  said  Mrs.  Heriian- 


172       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

dez.  ".If  I  give  money  you  may  be  sure  always 
that  I  intend  to  get  money's  worth.  If  these  peo 
ple  expect  more  checks  they  must  pay  me  atten 
tions,  invite  me  to  their  houses,  make  much  of  me. 
I  accept  whatever  furthers  my  desire  to  get  on  in 
the  world ;  not  that  I  care  particularly  about  it  ex 
cept  to  show  those  who  have  tried  to  keep  me  down 
that  I  am  at  the  very  top.  I  might  for  a  while  en 
joy  making  all  the  men  in  love  with  me  and  all  the 
women  wild  with  envy,  but  I  should  soon  be  ready 
to  snap  my  fingers  at  the  whole  crowd  and  let  them 
know  my  opinion  of  them." 

Hartley,  startled,  rather  disenchanted,  dropped 
his  eyes  and  seemed  to  be  musing  in  silence. 

"  That  is  like  a  silly  child,"  said  Eugenia,  u  who 
desires  a  costly  plaything  in  order  to  tear  it  to 
pieces.  In  such  a  position  your  aim  should  be  to 
show  that  you  had  advanced  not  by  the  mere  bru 
tal  supremacy  of  money,  but  by  force  of  character 
rising  above  your  limitations  and  hindrances. 
Then  you  will  have  done  something  for  your  sex." 

"  For  my  sex !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Hernandez  with 
frank  derision.  "  She  has  always  that  bone  in  her 
mouth !  She  wants  me  to  be  a  shining  light,  Mr. 
Hartley !  She  is  always  preaching  that  it  espe 
cially  behooves  the  emancipated  woman  who  has 
flung  away  old-fashioned  conventions  like  so  much 
useless  lumber,  to  set  a  good  example.  I  tell  her 
that  she  insists  that  a  woman,  having  got  rid  of 
her  fetters,  bolts,  and  bars,  should  be  brought  up 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  173 

against  a  ten-barred  gate  which  she  cannot  climb 
or  jump  over." 

"Yes,  I  believe  in  ten-barred  gates,"  said  Eu 
genia  under  her  breath. 

"  That  is  the  way  she  speaks  to  me  at  times,  out 
of  a  fourth-story  window,"  pursued  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez,  growing  always  more  and  more  in  high  spirits. 
"  She  will  not  understand  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
a  statue  of  propriety,  that  I  am  a  child,  always  was 
and  always  shall  be  a  child, —  that  there  is  some 
thing  within  me  that  refuses  to  grow  up.  Perhaps 
it  is  the  lawless  Western  training  in  me  that  gives 
me  a  sense  of  expectation,  of  longing  that  something 
shall  happen  —  shall  drift  up  from  the  unknown. 
I  want  more  than  other  women  seem  to  be  satisfied 
with.  In  some  ways  I  have  more  than  they  have, 
yet  at  times  I  am  miserable ;  I  say  to  myself  that 
women  with  none  of  my  money,  youth,  or  good 
looks  seem  to  get  hold  of  everything,  while  I  have 
nothing,  nothing  at  all." 

Hartley  laughed.  He  found  it  no  easy  matter 
to  keep  up  with  this  constant  metamorphosis,  these 
abrupt  transitions  of  mood. 

"  You  put  so  many  new  ideas  buzzing  in  my 
head,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  cannot  classify  them  all. 
I  should  say  you  had  everything." 

"  Not  everything." 

Hartley's  eyes  showed  lurking  fun. 

"  You  are  young,  beautiful,"  he  said  with  a  little 
wave  of  the  hand. 


174      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

"  Go  on." 

"  You  have  adorers." 

"  Who  are  they  ?     Tell  me,"  she  cried  eagerly. 

"  I  know  one,  at  least,  intimately." 

"  Tell  me  about  him.  What  sort  of  a  man  is 
he  ?  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  Here,  close  to  you  in  New  York." 

"  Is  he  young  ?  " 

"  Young  enough,  not  too  young." 

"  Handsome  ?  " 

"  H  'm,  I  might  say  handsome  enough ;  not  too 
handsome." 

"Rich?" 

"  Alas,  far  from  rich." 

She  burst  into  light  laughter. 

"  Your  description  is  not  over-flattering.  Not 
too  young,  not  too  handsome,  not  at  all  rich.  Is 
he  in  love  with  me?  " 

"  Ardently,  desperately." 

"  That  is  a  point  in  his  favor."  She  met  his 
glance  ironically,  almost  insolently.  "  He  must 
love  me  to  distraction,"  she  said  imperiously.*  "  He 
must  please  me." 

"  How  is  a  man  to  please  you  ?  "  he  asked  with 
a  humble  but  fervid  glance. 

She  let  her  glance  pass  over  his  face,  her  lips 
still  smiling,  her  eyes  full  of  pride  and  coquetry. 

" 1  like  pleasure,  life,  movement ;  I  like  a  man 
who  lives,  not  one  who  plods  on,  looking  neither  to 
right  nor  left,  intent  on  some  far-off  goal ;  not  one 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  175 

who  if  his  window  happens  to  open  towards  the 
north,  towards  cold,  bleakness,  darkness,  makes  no 
effort  at  any  cost  to  cut  through  a  passageway  to 
warmth  and  sunshine.  Above  all,  I  hate  a  man 
who  is  not  content  to  take  me  as  I  am,  but  wishes 
to  form  me  after  some  imaginary  ideal  of  his  own." 

It  seemed  to  Hartley,  gazing  at  her,  as  if  this 
plodder,  this  idealist,  were  in  her  mind's  eye. 
"  And  although,"  she  went  on,  "  it  does  not  matter 
to  me  practically,  I  like  a  man  to  be  rich.  I  can 
not  see  why  a  man  with  any  energy  or  resolution 
need  be  poor.  Nature  has  poured  out  everything 
in  such  reckless  profusion, —  gold,  silver,  precious 
stones  lie  at  his  feet,  and  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  stoop 
and  pick  them  up.  He  has  only  to  plow  the 
prairie,  sprinkle  it  with  grain,  and  it  laughs  with  a 
rich  harvest ;  or  if  he  is  ashamed  to  dig  and  plow 
let  him  buy  a  whole  township  for  a  song  and  sell 
it  foot  by  foot  for  a  fortune.  Certainly  there  seems 
no  excuse  for  a  man's  being  poor  in  this  country 
where  everything  has  a  push  behind  it." 

Hartley  was  laughing. 

"Why  do  you  laugh?" 

"  I  was  only  reflecting  that  you  seem  to  have  had 
a  happy  experience." 

"  No,  I  have  not  had  a  happy  experience ;  but 
here  I  am,  only  twenty-nine  years  of  age,  with 
plenty  of  money." 

"  I  am  thirty-one,"  said  Hartley ;  "  I  began  with 
high  expectations.  I  had  some  capital ;  I  put  it 


176       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

into  a  fairly  good  business;  I  have  had  an  honest 
partner  who  has  kept  me  from  actual  disaster. 
But  with  me  the  push,  instead  of  being  upwards, 
has  always  been  downwards, —  bad  times,  bad  luck, 
over  competition,  lack  of  the  requisite  insight  into 
good  chances,  Roylance's  love  of  the  safe  side !  " 

She  was  listening  intently,  evidently  weighing 
the  worth  of  this  confession. 

"  All  the  same,"  she  observed,  "  you  don't  seem 
conquered." 

"  No,  I  am  not  conquered." 

"  You  take  the  world  easily ;  you  seem  to  me 
just  fitted  to  be  a  rich  man." 

"  Exactly  my  own  idea  on  the  subject." 

"Why  don't  you  marry  a  rich  woman?"  she 
asked. 

He  remained  silent,  secretly  enraged,  yet  he  kept 
his  kindled  glance  fixed  upon  her. 

"  I  don't  mean  myself  necessarily,"  she  now  ex 
plained  laughing.  "  I  was  referring  to  the  past. 
You  must  have  had  many  opportunities.  I  wonder 
that  you  did  not  pick  up  a  great  heiress  years  ago." 

"  I  have  a  heart,  unluckily,"  he  managed  to  say 
with  some  feeling,  although  conscious  of  the  inade 
quacy  of  such  a  phrase  addressed  to  a  clear-headed 
woman. 

She  continued  to  look  at  him  ironically,  her  head 
a  little  on  one  side. 

"  Evidently,"  she  observed,  "  you  are  romantic. 
"  I  suppose  it  is  marriage  which  ends  all  that. 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  177 

Still  men  always  talk  of  love,  love,  love.  They 
don't  understand  the  key-note  of  the  modern 
woman,  do  they,  Eugenia  ?  " 

Miss  Shepard  —  perhaps  desiring  while  this 
intimate  conversation  was  going  on  to  efface  her 
self  as  much  as  possible  —  was  sitting  apparently 
absorbed  in  looking  down  at  her  two  hands  clasped 
together  on  the  edge  of  the  table.  Dinner  was  over ; 
it  had  been  an  elaborate  meal  of  the  sort  to  suit  the 
palate  of  a  gourmand,  and  it  was  clear  that  Mrs. 
Hernandez  was  one,  rejecting  anything  simple  and 
accepting  each  novelty  in  the  way  of  made  dishes. 
Champagne  had  been  the  only  beverage,  and  of  this 
she  had  taken  enough  to  exhilarate  her,  give  added 
color  to  her  cheeks  and  brilliancy  to  her  eyes.  It 
had  more  than  ever  struck  Hartley  that  Miss 
Shepard  in  every  way  made  an  ineffectual  protest 
against  the  self-indulgence,  the  laissez-faire  of  her 
patroness.  She  ate  sparingly  of  plain  meat  and 
vegetables,  refused  wine,  and  kept  her  glass  supplied 
from  her  own  water-bottle.  Still,  Hartley  said  to 
himself,  she  may  be  a  dyspeptic  and  without  high 
moral  intention  in  all  this  display  of  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  before  proffered  luxury.  When  she  did 
not  reply  on  the  instant  to  Mrs.  Hernandez's  ques 
tion  he  pressed  it  anew,  —  what  was  the  dominant 
chord  in  the  mind  of  modern  women  ? 

"  I  suppose  she  means  the  desire  to  follow  out 
the  law  of  her  own  being,"  Miss  Shepard  answered 
reluctantly. 


178      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  No,  I  mean  simply  and  greedily,  ambition," 
said  Mrs.  Hernandez,  who  was  now  busy  with  the 
sweets  which  crowned  the  repast.  She  looked  at 
Hartley  with  her  bright  mocking  glance.  "  If  a 
woman  is  poor  she  wants  money,  at  least  what 
money  can  bny.  But  when  she  has  all  the  money 
she  knows  how  to  spend,  when  she  has  fine  clothes, 
diamonds,  handsome  rooms,  then  she  feels  there  is 
something  else,  —  she  is  conscious  of  certain  limit 
ations  ;  she  feels  her  lack  of  education,  of  experi 
ence,  of  the  sort  of  refinement  which  only  comes 
from  contact  with  people  who  have  the  habit  of  the 
things  she  is  not  quite  used  to.  Now  it  is  not 
romantic  love  which  tempts  such  a  woman !  What 
a  man  had  better  urge  is  his  ability  to  offer  her  a 
position  where  she  may  be  a  social  centre,  re 
garded,  run  after,  made  the  fashion." 

She  flung  this  at  Hartley,  as  it  were,  like  a  chal 
lenge. 

He  looked  back  at  her,  smiling,  slightly  satirical. 
44  Yes,  you  are  ambitious,"  he  said. 

"  Too  ambitious  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"Money  can  do  a  good  deal,  but  to  enjoy  the 
very  flower  of  things  you  must  have  family,  the 
habit  of  society,  the  ease  and  charm  which  only 
come  from  long  social  supremacy." 

"  I  may  not  have  birth,  I  may  not  have  breed 
ing,"  she  returned,  quite  simply  and  earnestly,  evi 
dently  impressed  by  his  words.  "  But  I  know  my 
own  power,  —  and  I  believe  in  myself.  I  never 


BELLA  AND   EUGENIA.  179 

yet  saw  a  woman  I  did  not  feel  I  could  first  imi 
tate,  then  equal  and  surpass."  She  paused  to 
drop  a  lump  of  sugar  into  her  coffee,  then  drank  it 
slowly.  "  Besides,  I  am  rich,  and  I  am  all  the 
while  growing  richer." 

"  Shall  we  go  into  the  other  room  ?  "  said  Miss 
Shepard  dryly. 

"  You  shall  go  into  the  other  room  if  you  pre 
fer,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez  in  her  bright  mocking 
way.  "  I  shall  smoke  a  cigarette  with  Mr.  Hart 
ley."  She  turned  to  the  servant  and  dismissed 
him.  "  Thank  heaven,  he  is  gone,"  she  remarked 
as  the  door  closed  behind  him.  "  I  never  feel  that 
I  can  talk  freely  before  the  creature.  I  am  always 
wondering  whether  he  is  as  wooden  as  he  looks  or 
whether  he  is  listening  to  everything  I  say.  Why 
do  you  smile,  Eugenia  ?  " 

"  I  can  fancy  Mr.  Hartley  saying  to  himself,  '  If 
this  is  her  discretion,  what  would  her  indiscretion 
be?'" 

"Depend  upon  it,  the  man's  mind  is  on  your 
last  fee  and  he  is  trying  to  deserve  your  next  one," 
said  Hartley.  "Nothing  you  can  say  or  do  will 
alter  his  fixed  impression  that  'gentlefolks  is  re 
markable  queer.' " 

"  I  said  nothing  before  him,"  said  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez,  "  except  that  I  was  rich  and  wanted  to  get  on, 
and  he  knew  all  that  before.  I  am  myself.  Un 
less  I  can  be  myself  always,  I  am  quite  indifferent 
to  promotion."  She  glanced  at  Miss  Shepard, 


180      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

who,  slightly  frowning,  shook  her  head.  "  Oh,  I 
know, "  she  went  on,  4k  that  I  generally  say,  4  If 
other  people  do  this  or  that,  I  will  do  this  or  that. 
If  other  people  conform  to  that  usage,  I  will  con 
form.'  But  to-night  I  am  at  home.  Mr.  Hartley 
is  my  good  friend,  and  what  is  the  use  of  a  friend 
if  I  have  to  be,  on  my  best  behavior  ?  "  She  had 
lighted  her  cigarette  at  the  taper,  and  began  to 
smoke  it  in  the  slow,  luxurious  Spanish  fashion. 
"  I  do  not  pose  as  a  great  lady,"  she  proceeded. 
"  I  love  to  think  of  what  I  came  from.  In  fact,  if 
I  had  never  been  poor  I  could  not  get  half  the 
comfort  out  of  my  money  I  do  now.  I  could  not 
properly  enjoy  such  a  dinner  as  this  we  have  just 
eaten  if  I  did  not  remember  the  buckwheat  cakes 
and  saleratus  biscuits  of  my  infancy." 

Hartley  was  ready  to  humor  her  mood  for  remi 
niscence.  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  your 
self,"  he  said.  "  All  that  you  have  been  a  part  of 
interests  me." 

She  took  her  cigarette  from  her  lips  and  bent  a 
deep  look  on  him. 

"  You  must  not  be  too  fastidious,  then,"  she  said. 
44  Remember  that  I  grew  up  in  a  country  where 
everything  was  in  a  condition  of  chaos,  —  every 
thing  was  forming  before  our  eyes,  —  nothing  came 
ready-made." 

44 1  understand  all  that." 

She  sat  leaning  forward,  not  touching  the  high 
back  of  the  embossed  red-velvet-covered  chair,  rest- 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  181 

ing  her  plump  left  elbow  on  the  table,  and  now  and 
then  bringing  the  cigarette  to  her  lips.  At  her 
right  was  a  small  glass  of  liqueur  which  she  occa 
sionally  sipped,  meantime  nibbling  at  the  bonbons. 

"  My  name  as  a  girl  was  Bella  Brown,"  she  said. 
"  I  like  to  be  called  Bella.  I  hate  my  married  title." 

Hartley,  inclined  to  act  up  to  his  role  with  spirit, 
repeated  the  name  she  liked  under  his  breath,  but 
with  such  unmistakable  fervor  that  Miss  Shepard 
blushed  angrily  and  turned  away,  making  a  pre 
tense  of  busying  herself  with  the  crimson  shade  of 
one  of  the  candles. 

"Yes,  call  me  Bella,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez, 
laughing.  "  I  am  Bella  Brown  first  and  always. 
Some  of  Eugenia's  friends  advocate  a  woman's 
retaining  her  maiden  name  after  marriage,  and  I 
go  with  such  views  heartily.  Marriage  does  not 
change  a  woman's  identity  any  more  than  it 
changes  a  man's.  When  I  wake  up  in  the  morn 
ing  and  look  about  my  room,  I  often  say  to  myself 
'This  is  I,  Isabella  Brown!'  My  father,"  she 
went  on,  "  was  Timothy  Brown  of  Castine,  Maine. 
He  went  West  a  little  too  late  for  the  height  of 
the  gold  fever.  He  married  in  California."  She 
paused  a  moment,  then  proceeded.  "  My  mother 
was  half  Mexican." 

"  Ah,  that  is  it,"  said  Hartley.  "  I  never 
thought  of  it  before,  but  I  perceive  now  that  there 
is  something  foreign  in  your  look  and  manner." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.     "  I  am  not  very 


182      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

proud  of  my  Mexican  blood,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  pre 
fer  to  remember  that  my  father  was  a  well  educated 
New  England  man.  He  was  unlucky,  but  he  was 
the  best  thing  that  ever  happened  to  me.  If  he 
were  only  alive  now  I  might  make  up  to  him  for 
his  hard  lines.  He  was  so  poor,  always  so  poor ! 
while  the  man  beside  him  picked  up  nuggets  of 
gold,  his  gravel  panned  out  a  dollar  to  the  ton. 
You  see  I  know  what  poverty  is,  Mr.  Hartley.  I 
have  been  through  every  phase  of  it;  I  under 
stand,  too,  what  is  behind  it, —  a  shirking  of  respon 
sibility,  a  lack  of  quick  decision,  the  unwillingness 
to  look  at  things  fairly  and  squarely,  putting  off, 
instead  of  feeling  every  time  the  sun  comes  up, 
4  This  is  the  Day  of  Judgment.'  Still  I  loved  my 
father  and  was  proud  of  his  having  had  a  college 
education.  I  am  thankful  to  him  for  making  me 
speak  good  English,  and  I  forgive  him  for  dragging 
us  through  the  mire  as  he  did.  The  first  comfort 
I  can  recall  came  when  I  was  eighteen  years  old. 
He  ran  a  boarding-house  at  Whitehouse  Creek, 
close  by  the  new  silver  diggings.  It  was  a  sensible 
enterprise  and  fairly  successful.  I  used  to  wait  at 
table.  Should  you  have  believed  it  ?  " 

"You  are  a  part  of  all  that  you  have  met," 
quoted  Hartley,  "and  that  is  what  it  is  to  live. 
I  myself  seem  in  comparison  to  have  been  a  dreary, 
bored  observer." 

"  If  you  could  have  seen  the  meals  we  used  to  set 
out !  If  you  could  have  seen  the  men  who  took 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  183 

their  places  at  table  !  If  you  could  have  heard 
them  talk,  in  good  humor,  in  bad  humor !  If  you 
could  have  seen,  as  I  did,  more  than  once,  the  meal 
end  in  a  free  fight,  and  two  men  carried  out  dead, 
you  might  call  it  something  beyond  a  mere  cut- 
and-dried  existence.  However,  I  was  used  to  it; 
I  was  full  of  spirit  and  energy  ;  I  was  proud  of  being 
the  quickest  and  lightest  of  foot  of  all  the  ten 
girls." 

"I  am  perfectly  certain,"  said  Hartley,  "that 
every  man  at  table  wanted  you  to  wait  on  him." 

"You  bet." 

As  this  phrase  issued  from  the  full  rosy  lips,  Miss 
Shepard, —  who  had  for  the  last  half  hour  been 
wrought  up  to  a  state  of  nervous  exasperation  — 
gave  utterance  to  some  inaudible  expression,  started 
to  her  feet,  and  walked  into  the  next  room.  Bella 
gazed  after  her,  changed  color,  and,  coming  back  to 
a  sense  of  the  conventionalities  she  had  offended, 
threw  away  her  cigarette  and  pushed  aside  the 
glass  of  Chartreuse. 

"  You  led  me  on,"  she  said  to  Hartley  with  the 
droll  grimace  of  a  naughty  child  about  to  be  pun 
ished  for  a  fault.  "  Now  I  shall  have  to  go  down 
on  my  knees  to  Eugenia." 

"  Was  it  the  slang  which  horrified  her,  or  the  bit 
of  autobiography  ?  " 

"  She  had  been  sitting  on  thorns  for  some  time," 
said  Bella.  "  I  saw  she  disapproved  of  me,  but  I 
felt  like  going  on.  I  told  you  she  was  my  con- 


184      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE, 

science -keeper,"  said  Bella,  jumping  up.  "Now 
you  must  come  and  help  me  make  it  up  with  her." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  parlor,  where  Miss 
Shepard  was  sitting  at  a  table,  pretending  to  be 
looking  over  a  book  of  etchings. 

"  Here  we  are,  Eugenia,"  said  Bella,  in  the  tone 
of  a  coaxing  child.  "  Please  forgive  everything, 
and  be  friends." 

But  Miss  Shepard  did  not  move  or  look  up  as 
Bella,  approaching  behind  her,  shook  her  playfully 
by  the  shoulders. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  highly  inconsistent  woman," 
she  went  on  lightly.  "  You  are  all  for  freedom, 
for  emancipation,  for  suffrage,  for  every  possible 
right  of  woman.  You  insist  that  we  are  not  to  be 
tied  down  to  tradition,  that  each  of  us  is  to  find 
within  us  the  law  which  ought  to  govern  us  ;  yet  the 
moment  I  jar  upon  your  superfine  sensibilities  you 
are  horrified." 

Miss  Shepard  pushed  her  book  away,  but  sat 
with  a  furrow  between  her  brows,  gazing  fixedly 
before  her. 

"  You  used  to  call  me  the  apostle  of  your  theo 
ries,"  Bella  continued  playfully. 

"  But  what  an  apostle !  An  apostle  to  what  a 
gospel!" 

She  broke  off  as  Bella  burst  into  a  fit  of 
laughter. 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Hartley,"  she  cried,  full  of  mis 
chief,  "am  I  not  a  delightful  instance  of  the  eman 
cipated  female  ?  " 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  185 

"  If  you  treat  my  creeds  lightly,"  said  Miss  Shep- 
ard  in  a  strained,  discordant  voice,  "  you  put  me  in 
the  wrong.'* 

"  Oh  no,  I  do  not  mean  to  put  you  in  the  wrong. 
I  put  nobody  in  the  wrong  except  myself.  Don't 
judge  Eugenia  by  me,  Mr.  Hartley.  She  has  lofty 
standards,  high  principles.  She  fasts  while  I  feast. 
She  does  not  drink  champagne  ;  she  declares  it  goes 
to  her  head.  I  say  that  is  where  I  want  it  to  go ; 
what  is  life  without  a  little  intoxication  ?  When  I 
try  to  induce  her  to  put  on  a  becoming  gown  she 
says  stoically,  '  I  prefer  to  be  as  ugly  as  nature 
made  me.'  How  can  I  live  up  to  an  example  of 
such  high  courage  ?  " 

"  You  make  me  out  a  very  absurd  person," 
said  Eugenia. 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  are  such  a  consistent 
person  I  have  to  strike  a  balance  by  being  incon 
sistent.  Then  you  know  very  well  it  is  not  in  my 
nature  to  pretend,  and  when  I  am  in  good  spirits 
I  bubble  over.  Come  now,  kiss  and  be  friends." 

She  suited  the  action  to  the  words ;  and  Eugenia 
yielded  with  rather  an  ill  grace.  "  I  was  wrong," 
she  said  reluctantly.  "  I  am  a  very  bad-tempered 
person,  I  suppose.  But  after  all,  if  you  hire  a 
music  master  to  teach  you  the  piano  and  he  raps 
you  on  the  fingers  if  you  play  false  you  do  not  say 
to  him,  '  You  are  very  particular.' ' 

"  No,  I  deserved  the  rebuke,"  said  Bella  demurely. 
u  I  ask  you  to  forgive,  I  ask  everybody  to  for- 


186      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

give  me."  She  flung  herself  against  the  pile  of 
cushions  on  the  sofa.  "  It  is  the  wild  Mexican 
blood  in  my  veins,  I  suppose,"  she  continued. 
"  Sometimes  I  hate  it.  Then  again  I  would  not 
have  it  left  out  of  my  composition  for  the  sake  of 
being  mistress  of  all  the  cold  proprieties  of  the 
world." 

She  glanced  at  Hartley,  who  stood  looking  on, 
a  little  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say  or  to  do.  What 
he  experienced  was  a  sense  of  being  led  a  strange 
dance  into  a  new  region  where  familiar  lights  failed 
him  and  there  was  a  jumble  of  the  attractive  and 
the  bizarre.  He  tried  to  rally  his  powers  to  answer 
the  necessities  of  the  occasion. 

"  Spanish  and  Puritan  meet  in  you,"  he  said ; 
"  and  it  is  always  the  marriage  of  contraries  which 
gives  temperament." 

"  The  Mexican  in  me  enjoys  color  and  warmth," 
said  Bella  unreservedly.  "  It  likes  getting  its 
sensations  cheap.  If  I  were  Mexican  only  I  might 
have  been  a  circus  girl ;  for  when  I  was  ten  years 
old  I  could  ride  a  half-broken  mustang  that  every 
body  else  was  afraid  of.  But  the  Puritan  is 
strong  in  me,  —  it  will  come  in." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,"  said  Eugenia. 

"  Poor  Eugenia,"  said  Bella ;  "  she  never,  in  her 
life  acted  on  an  impulse,  —  she  knows  nothing  but 
cold-blooded  reason.  Now  to-night,  the  Mexican 
gets  the  better  of  the  Puritan  in  me.  I  am  still 
run  away  with  by  high  spirits.  At  this  moment  I 
long  to  dance." 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  187 

"  Do  dance,"  said  Hartley.  He  kept  his  gaze 
fixed  upon  her  with  a  sort  of  fascinated  expecta 
tion.  Her  eyes  emitted  light.  She  seemed  to  feel 
such  a  superabundance  of  life  that  she  threw  it 
off  in  an  electrical  current  which  influenced  him  to 
a  degree.  Her  feet  began  to  move  as  to  imaginary 
music. 

"  Eugenia,  dear,  good  Eugenia,  may  I  dance  ?  " 
she  entreated  coaxingly. 

"  Oh  dance,  dance,  dance  all  you  like,"  said 
Eugenia,  half  in  anger  and  half  in  scorn.  "  It  is 
not  a  dancing  world  to  me,  but  if  it  is  to  you, 
act  out  your  humor."  At  this  permission,  Bella 
started  up  joyfully  and  darted  like  a  flash  out  of 
the  room.  Hartley,  gazing  after  her  in  blank  amaze 
ment,  turned  inquiringly  towards  Miss  Shepard, 
who,  with  a  little  gesture  as  if  deprecating  his 
judgment,  said,  "  She  has  gone  to  change  her  gown. 
She  is  in  a  wild  mood  to-night  which  she  has  to 
work  off  somehow,  and  she  may  as  well  dance.  I 
sometimes  suspect  that  her  mother  was  half  Indian, 
besides  being  half  Mexican.  She  is  incorrigible.  I 
can  perceive  that  you  are  shocked  in  every  instinct. 
It  is  not  worth  while.  I  teach  myself  to  be  patient. 
If  I  permitted  her  vagaries  to  afflict  me  beyond 
the  moment,  I  should  not  live  here  another  day." 

"  I  am  not  shocked,"  said  Hartley.  "  I  am 
rather  amused.  She  has  a  refreshing  touch  of 
wildness  in  her  nature." 

"You   can  be    lenient,   because   you    have   no 


188      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

sense  of  responsibility.  But  it  puts  me  in  the 
wrong.  It  puts  me  terribly  in  the  wrong."  As 
she  said  this  he  advanced  a  step  nearer,  looking  at 
her  so  eagerly  that,  as  if  fearful  he  might  magnify 
her  meaning,  she  hastened  to  add :  "  Not  that 
there  is  anything  worse  than  this  frivolity  which 
she  will  repent  to-morrow.  She  is  simply  run 
away  with  by  her  vanity  and  a  sort  of  theatrical- 
ity." 

"  You  and  she  are  very  unlike,"  observed  Hartley. 

"  Unlike !  "  repeated  Miss  Shepard  with  peculiar 
emphasis. 

"  Still,  in  spite  of  the  unlikeness  you  find  some 
thing  in  her  to  awaken  interest  and  regard." 

"  She  pays  me,"  said  Miss  Shepard,  as  if  the 
words  stung  her.  "  I  needed  money,  not  for  my 
self  but  for  my  sister,  who  has  five  children  and 
whose  husband  deserted  her.  Mrs.  Hernandez 
advertised  in  San  Francisco  for  a  companion.  I 
answered  and  we  struck  a  bargain.  She  gives  me  a 
good  salary.  I  am  to  chaperone  her,  as  she  calls 
it,  and  to  the  extent  of  my  influence  do  all  I  can 
in  her  behalf.  She  lent  me,  to  begin  with,  a  hand 
some  sum  of  money.  I  accepted  the  position  out 
of  pure  greed." 

"  Don't  lower  your  own  motives.  Evidently 
you  were  already  embarked  in  a  career ;  yon  seem 
to  be  a  well-known  woman.  I  see  your  name  in 
the  papers." 

"  I  had  no  power ;  I  was  tied  hand  and  foot  by 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  189 

lack  of  money  ;  I  was  in  debt.  Still,  my  reputa 
tion  lias  been  of  use  to  her,  — •  and  I  may  as  well 
confess  that,  to  begin  with,  at  any  rate,  I  flattered 
my  scruples  by  imposing  upon  myself  and  others 
the  belief  that  she  was  a  shining  instance  of  the 
modern  woman." 

"  Are  you  disappointed  ?  " 

"  Disappointed  ?  Can  I  uphold  a  woman  who 
sees  immunities  where  I  see  duties  ?  If  I  have 
preached  the  necessity  of  throwing  aside  certain 
obligations  she  does  not  feel  binding  and  sacred, 
it  is  that  she  should  take  up  obligations  she  does 
make  binding  and  sacred." 

Hartley  gazed  at  her  intently;  her  words 
roused  a  powerful  curiosity. 

"  She  makes  me  hate  my  own  views,"  said 
Eugenia  almost  fiercely,  although  she  spoke  just 
above  her  breath.  "  She  makes  me  doubt,  indeed, 
whether  I  have  any  views  which  can  stand  the  test 
of  the  wear  and  tear  of  everyday  life." 

"  Views  are  a  terrible  encumbrance,"  said  Hart 
ley.  He  still  gazed  at  her  as  if  fascinated..  He 
longed  yet  dreaded  to  end  this  uncertainty. 
Eugenia  was  the  one  person  who  could  answer  the 
question  which  lurked  behind  the  simplest  sugges 
tions,  and  which  put  an  interrogation  point  after 
each  of  Mrs.  Hernandez's  indiscretions. 

"You  rouse  more  curiosity  than  you  gratify," 
he  said. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you  —  " 


190      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  Can't  you  see  that  there  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
mystery,  that " 

She  made  an  angry  gesture.  "  Rest  assured," 
she  said  harshly,  "that  if  there  were  anything 
actually  wrong  I  should  not  be  here.  This  is  her 
story.  She  married  a  certain  rather  notorious 
Colonel  Higby,  from  whom  she  was  divorced.  I 
fancy  she  had  believed  him  to  be  rich,  but  he 
turned  out  to  be  a  poor  man.  It  was  a  terrible 
experience.  She  has  told  me  things  about  her  life 
with  him  which  made  it  justifiable  for  her  to  try 
to  regain  her  freedom.  Then  she  became  the  wife 
of  Aurelio  Hernandez.  As  long  as  he  lived  she 
was  under  the  yoke.  But  the  bondage  only  lasted 
three  years  ;  then  he  died  suddenly  and  she  came 
into  his  possessions.  If  she  boasts  of  her  money 
vulgarly  it  is  because  she  is  still  in  the  wildest 
spirits  on  finding  herself  free  and  rich  beyond  all 
her  dreams.  She  can  conceal  nothing,  —  with  her 
everything  is  on  the  surface." 

"  So  that  is  her  history,"  said  Hartley  with  an 
intense  relief,  and  dismissing  he  knew  not  what 
swarming  vague  apprehensions  from  his  mind. 

44  That  is  her  history.  She  is  not  a  woman  who 
analyzes  her  experience  and  acts  intelligently  and 
logically  upon  the  knowledge  of  life  she  has 
gained.  Still,  she  does  usually  realize,  quite  as 
much  as  I,  that  when  a  woman  sacrifices  a  great 
many  things  which  most  of  her  sex  regard  as 
essential,  she  must  be  earnest,  consistent,  and 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  191 

sincere.  But  sometimes  she  gets  excited  and  is 
carried  away." 

"Here  I  am,"  said  a  voice  in  the  distance. 
"  Was  I  gone  a  long  time  ?  " 

Hartley  had  retreated  to  a  safe  distance  from 
Eugenia  by  the  time  Bella  lifted  the  portiere  and 
stood  framed  there  like  a  picture.  She  had  thrown 
off  her  trailing  evening  gown  and  put  on  a  short 
one  of  diaphanous  black,  spangled  with  gold,  the 
skirt  composed  of  fine  quillings  and  plaitings  which 
clung  to  her  shape,  yet  were  capable  of  expanding 
to  yards  on  yards  of  circumference.  She  still 
wore  the  gold  ornaments  on  her  neck  and  wrists, 
and  in  her  hands  carried  a  mantilla  of  lace. 

"Now,  Eugenia,"  she  said,  coming  towards 
them,  "  go  to  the  piano  and  play  a  waltz,  —  not  too 
fast  at  first." 

Eugenia,  with  her  slow,  reluctant  way  of  seem 
ing  to  do  against  her  taste  and  judgment  what  she 
was  coerced  to  do,  obeyed. 

"  How  is  this  ?  "  she  inquired,  beginning  an 
adaptation  of  a  Spanish  air. 

"A  little  too  fast,"  said  Bella.  She  made  a 
slight  courtesy  to  Hartley,  then,  negligent,  smiling, 
swaying  first  one  way  and  then  the  other,  began 
gracefully  to  advance  and  recede,  holding  the  man 
tilla  before  her  and  waving  it. 

"Charming!"  said  Hartley,  and  clapped  his 
hands. 

The  applause  excited  her.     "  Faster !  "  she  cried 


192      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

to  Eugenia ;  threw  aside  the  mantilla,  and,  gather 
ing  into  her  hands  instead  a  fold  of  her  airy  and 
glittering  draperies,  she  made  them,  undulate  with 
the  rhythm  of  the  music.  As  she  moved,  she  kept 
her  brilliant  gaze  fixed  upon  Hartley,  compelling 
him  to  feel  the  fire  of  her  eyes,  and  at  the  same 
time  communicating  to  him  in  some  subtle  way  an 
uneasy  sense  of  restlessness  as  her  fluttering,  spar 
kling  raiment  vibrated  continuously  to  the  modula 
tions  of  the  waltz,  throwing  out  its  fiery  spangles 
like  a  swarm  of  golden  bees. 

"  Faster !  "  she  cried  again  ;  and  with  the  accel 
erated  pace,  the  gauzy  skirts  seemed  to  become  wings 
which  emitted  flashes  like  the  darting  of  fireflies 
out  of  the  blackness  of  a  tropical  night.  The 
cheeks  of  the  dancer  flushed  a  deeper  crimson  ;  her 
dark  eyes  grew  brighter  and  brighter;  her  lips 
more  and  more  smiling.  She  was  almost  alarm 
ing. 

Eugenia  brought  her  fingers  down  on  the  piano 
with  a  crash. 

"  That  is  enough,"  she  said,  shut  the  instrument, 
and  rose. 

Hartley,  whose  impression  was  quite  as  much  of 
repugnance  as  of  allurement,  was  ready  to  echo 
her  words. 

"Did  you  like  it?"  demanded  Bella,  radiant. 

"  I  might  use  twenty  adjectives,"  said  Hartley, 
"  but  will  content  myself  with  one.  It  was  charm- 
ing." 


BELLA  AND  EUGENIA.  193 

She  took  her  favorite  attitude  on  the  sofa,  laugh 
ing. 

"  From  a  child,  I  always  loved  to  dance,"  she 
said.  "  It  was  the  first,  about  the  only  thing,  my 
mother  taught  me.  My  father  considered  it  wicked ; 
he  believed  all  such  amusements  to  come  straight 
from  the  Prince  of  Darkness.  Astonishing,  how 
ideas  implanted  in  our  infancy  cling  !  It  is  when 
I  feel  restless,  experimental,  rather  wicked,  that  I 
want  to  dance.  Don't  frown,  Eugenia;  I  have 
worked  it  off  ;  I  'm  as  good  as  gold."  She  beck 
oned  to  Hartley  to  draw  a  chair  by  her  side. 
"  Now,  the  rest  of  the  evening,  you  shall  entertain 
me,"  she  said. 

And  he  obeyed,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

KATHLEEN    MAKES    UP    HER    MIND. 

AFTER  Garthe  had  left  her  that  evening,  Con 
stance  continued  to  stand  just  where  she  had  taken 
leave  of  him.  She  was  pale,  perturbed,  dissatisfied 
with  herself  ;  once  she  pressed  the  palms  of  her 
hands  against  her  temples,  as  if  to  still  some  throb 
bing  there  ;  then  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  and 
she  smiled  as  if  moved  by  some  sudden  hint  of 
happy  recollection. 

Kathleen  presently  entered,  radiant. 

"  How  is  the  cold  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  did  not  ex 
pect  to  find  you  waiting  up  for  me." 

"The  cold?"  repeated  Constance,  forgetting. 
Then  a  deep  glow  overspread  her  face.  "It  is 
better,"  she  made  haste  to  say.  "  In  fact,  I  think 
it  is  quite  cured." 

"  That  comes  of  staying  in  and  nursing  it,"  said 
Kathleen.  "  Still,  you  missed  a  good  deal."  She 
sat  down  before  the  fire,  dropped  her  wraps  from 
her  shoulders,  and  went  on  talking  with  animation 
about  the  opera,  the  singers,  the  women  who  had 
been  in  the  boxes,  the  men  who  had  dropped  in  to 
see  her  and  Mrs.  Challoner.  Mr.  Marchmont  had 
sat  behind  her  all  the  evening.  Never  had  she 


KATHLEEN  MAKES   UP  HER  MIND.        195 

known  him  in  such  a  delightful  humor ;  he  seemed 
to  have  come  to  charm  and  to  be  charmed. 

"  Sometimes,  of  late,"  Kathleen  proceeded,  "  he 
has  been  a  little  tormenting.  He  has  seemed  to 
laugh  at  me,  to  find  me  infantile ;  he  has  talked  as 
if  he  had  given  up,  in  disgust,  everything  I  cared 
about ;  has  discussed  the  question  of  whether  there 
ought  not  to  be  an  asylum  and  a  pension  for  old 
men  past  fifty  years  of  age,  in  order  that  they 
might  not  be  in  the  way  of  young  people ;  he  has 
quoted  all  the  poetry  he  knew  about  old  age ;  oh, 
he  has  made  me  unhappy  !  But  to-night,  one  would 
have  said  that  the  longer  a  man  lived  the  better 
he  knew  how  to  be  amusing.  The  young  men 
seemed  so  stiff  and  heavy,  or  silly,  in  comparison. 
I  listened  to  nobody  else.  I  cared  for  nobody  else." 

It  startled  Constance  to  have  Kathleen  appear 
thus  to  confirm  all  Garthe's  predictions.  It  was 
not  only  a  relief  to  believe  that  Kathy  and  Mr. 
Marchmont  were  a  little  in  love  with  each  other, 
but  that  Garthe  was  right,  that  he  was  gifted 
with  knowledge  and  insight.  His  clear  divination 
of  the  state  of  the  case  seemed  to  justify  her 
when  she  found  that  his  voice  lingered  in  her  ear, 
that  she  was  still  under  the  thrill  of  his  touch,  of 
his  vivid  glance.  Not  that  she  yielded,  even  in 
imagination,  to  the  spell  they  could  cast  over  her. 
"  No,  no,  no,"  she  said  to  herself,  just  as  she  had 
said  it  to  him.  Still,  before  she  could  compose 
herself  to  sleep,  it  was  necessary  to  go  over  and 


196      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

over  again  the  details  of  that  strange  and  unex 
pected  interview ;  strange  and  unexpected,  yet  she 
realized  that  somehow  the  germ  of  feeling  for 
him  must  have  been  in  her  mind  already.  No 
sooner  had  she  looked  up,  that  evening,  and  seen 
him  advancing  towards  her,  than  her  very  soul  had 
stirred  like  a  flame  quickened  by  a  wind. 

From  the  moment  they  had  met,  she  had  been 
conscious  that  in  some  subtle  way  an  intimacy  of 
feeling  had  been  established  between  them.  She 
had  explained  it  to  herself  by  saying  that  she  had 
divined  in  him  just  those  qualities  of  heart  and 
head  which  were  to  move  Kathy.  He  talked  little, 
but,  when  he  did  talk,  with  a  few  well-directed 
touches  he  made  his  point  and  created  the  effect 
he  needed  to  produce.  Clever  or  not  clever,  he 
seemed  to  Constance  a  strong  man,  and  she  was 
ready  to  accept  the  ascendency  he  at  once  estab 
lished  over  her,  because  it  was  to  include  Kathy  as 
well.  She  had  vindicated  the  charm  she  found  in 
his  society  by  talking  to  him  constantly  of  Kathy, 
by  withdrawing  her  own  personality,  by  saying 
"  we,"  not  "  I,"  by  showing  him  frankly  that  she 
considered  it  a  happy  accident  when  she  saw  him 
sitting  with  Kathy,  talking,  listening,  comparing 
notes,  in  the  easy,  intimate  fashion  of  people  who 
have  much  in  common.  She  had  filled  up  any 
personal  sense  of  loss  and  blankness  by  her  satis 
faction  in  the  thought  that  she  was  scrupulously 
faithful  to  her  trust,  —  that  Kathy  was  to  be 
happy. 


KATHLEEN  MAKES  UP  HER  MIND.    197 

But  to-night  when  he  had  stood  smiling  down  at 
her,  complaining  that  he  found  her  changed,  such 
little  artifices  had  shriveled  up  before  his  practical 
decision  and  swift  insight.  The  significance  of  his 
words  dawned  gradually  upon  her  mind.  She  had 
been  used  to  believing  that  many  things  were  out  of 
the  question  for  herself  ;  she  had  never  been  so  cov 
etous  as  to  wish  for  them,  —  had  been  contented 
with  desiring  them  for  Kathy.  She  had,  altogether, 
to  change  the  focus  of  things  in  general,  before  she 
could  rightly  apprehend  the  facts  of  the  case  as 
Garthe  saw  them.  What  was  needed  was  a  con 
stant  readjustment  of  the  arguments  to  a  practical 
point  of  view.  Garthe,  who  certainly  was  a  man 
of  more  defined  and  resolute  will  than  most  people 
she  had  known,  was  not  in  love  with  Kathy,  nor, 
according  to  his  view,  was  Kathy  in  love  with  him. 
By  what  right  or  with  what  reason  could  she  then  go 
on  picturing  the  delightful  result  of  their  mutual 
attraction  ?  She  felt  humbly  that  she  had,  so  far, 
apprehended  her  duties  quite  falsely,  starting  from 
no  fixed  high  principle  and  following  up  the  lead 
to  no  worthy  conclusion.  She  desired  Kathy's 
happiness,  but  had  blindly  set  to  work  to  make 
her  miserable.  If  Kathy  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Garthe  in  the  face  of  his  indifference,  or  rather 
of  his  clear  preference  for  somebody  else,  what 
general  misery !  Constance  liked  best  that  night 
to  accept,  although  with  some  soreness  of  feeling, 
his  theory  that  Kathy  and  Mr.  Marclimont  were 


198      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

attached  to  each  other.  Many  little  incidents  now 
seemed  to  give  weight  to  it,  to  brush  aside  like  cob 
webs  all  that  impeded  her  belief  in  it.  So  much 
for  conscience  before  she  let  her  fancy  get  the 
upper  hand  ;  before  she  permitted  herself  to  remem 
ber  how,  even  before  Garthe  spoke,  she  met  his  eyes 
and  recognized  the  approach  of  a  supreme  moment ; 
how  a  constraint  was  upon  her  which  made  her  feel 
with  mingled  joy  and  terror  that  she  must  meet  it. 
How  all  this  had  come  to  pass  she  could  not  tell, 
and  searched  in  vain  for  a  clew  to  the  mystery. 
Only  one  thing  was  clear  to  her,  —  that  Garthe 
loved  her,  not  another;  not  Kathy,  but  herself; 
and  without  to-night  trying  to  analyze  the  thrill 
of  joy  which  came  along  with  her  perception  of  the 
fact,  she  asked  herself  whether  she  could  have 
yielded  even  to  Kathy  that  joy  immeasurable  of 
knowing  herself  beloved?  There  was  a  secret  in 
toxication  in  the  conviction  that  she  could  no  more 
yield  up  Garthe's  love  than  she  could  govern  the 
stars  in  their  courses ;  so  for  that  night  she  taught 
herself  to  be  absolutely  selfish. 

Next  day  she  was  brought  to  earth  by  her  own 
arrow. 

Kathy,  blithe  and  light-hearted,  had  gone  out 
after  breakfast,  but  returned  before  noon  flushed, 
flurried,  with  a  brow  showing  painful  perplexity. 

"  Oh,  Constance,"  she  wailed,  flying  up  the  stair 
case.  "  Oh,  Constance !  " 

Constance,  answering  the  call,  ran  towards  hert 
and  the  two  encountered  on  the  landing. 


KATHLEEN  MAKES    UP  HEB  MIND.        199 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  cried  the  girl,  opening  her 
arms. 

Kathy  rushed  into  them  and  nestled  there. 

"  Oh,  such  a  dreadful  thing  has  happened  ;  such 
a  monstrous,  incredible  thing  I  hardly  dare  tell 
you,"  she  gasped. 

Constance,  full  of  terror,  drew  her  into  the  sunny 
morning-room,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  But  you  must  tell  me.  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said, 
gazing  into  the  face  before  her,  alternately  flushing 
and  paling. 

"I  can't,"  returned  Kathy  with  an  air  of  des 
peration. 

She  permitted  herself  to  be  established  on  the 
lounge,  to  have  cushions  piled  behind  her,  to  have 
her  bonnet,  wrap,  and  gloves  taken  off,  and  salts 
offered.  Then  she  burst  into  tears. 

"You  make  me  so  anxious,"  murmured  Con 
stance. 

"  I  know,"  said  Kathy.  She  tried  to  speak ;  she 
could  not  utter  more  than  these  two  syllables. 
She  blushed,  tried  to  hide  her  face  against  the 
girl's  shoulder  and  began  again ;  then,  frightened, 
suddenly  checked  herself.  It  was  now  easy  to  sob, 
and  she  sobbed  like  a  heart-broken  child. 

"  But,  Kathy,"  cried  Constance,  "  I  cannot  en 
dure  such  suspense." 

"  I  am  afraid  if  I  tell  you  what  happened  that 
you  will  never  speak  to  me  again,"  faltered  Kathy. 

Constance's  thoughts  instantly  reverted  to  Garthe. 
She  grew  pale. 


200      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  Nothing  could  make  any  difference  with  me," 
she  said  with  desperate  resolution. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sure.  I  could  love  you  through  any- 
thing." 

"  I  've  —  I  've  —  I  've  —  been  —  in  —  sul  — • 
ted,"  whispered  Kathy. 

"  Insulted  ?  By  whom  ?  "  cried  Constance,  all 
the  blood  rushing  to  her  heart. 

"  I  don't  know  who  he  is.  Of  course  he  is  a 
perfect  stranger  tome.  That  was  the  horror  of  it." 

"  But  what  did  he  do  ?  " 

"He  pursued  me,"  said  Kathy  tragically. 

"  Pursued  you  ?  " 

"I  mean  he  followed  me." 

"  Followed  you  home  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Kathy  with  a  gesture  of 
despair.  "  I  did  not  look  back.  I  simply  turned 
and  fled."  She  drew  Constance  down  on  the 
couch  beside  her,  and  they  embraced,  each  with  a 
tremulous  sensitiveness.  "  Oh,"  she  went  on,  "  I 
never  had  such  a  horrible  experience.  It  changed 
all  my  ideas  in  a  moment.  It  made  me  feel,  as 
nothing  else  could,  dear,  that  you  are  right." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand,"  said  Constance  with 
indefinable  mistrust.  "  How  do  you  mean  that  I 
am  right  ?  " 

"  In  thinking  that  I  ought  to  marry  again,  to 
marry  Mr.  Garthe,"  whispered  Kathy,  her  cheek 
against  the  girl's,  her  whole  fragile  being  thrilling 


KATHLEEN  MAKES   UP  HER  MIND.        201 

and  palpitating  with  an  ardent  vitality  like  a  bird's. 
Still  tenderly  conscious  although  Constance  was 
of  that  highly  wrought  mood,  at  this  confession  she 
started  away,  stood  at  a  little  distance,  and  made  an 
effort  to  collect  her  thoughts.  But  her  brain  reeled 
as  she  tried  her  wits  at  the  riddle.  It  was  impossi 
ble  to  think  acutely. 

"  But  tell  me,  please  tell  me,  what  happened  ?  " 
she  implored. 

"  You  will  say  it  was  all  my  fault,"  murmured 
Kathy,  her  face  scarlet.  "  That  is  the  reason  I  am 
so  ready  to  give  up  my  independence.  I  want  to 
be  taken  care  of  by  somebody  who  is  wise  and  calm ; 
it  would  be  such  a  relief  to  have  a  man  like  Mr. 
Gar  the  always  at  my  side.  I  feel  just  as  you  do, 
there  is  something  about  him  so  different  from  most 
men,"  she  went  on,  in  a  soft  justification  of  her 
self.  "  He  says  to  me  '  Sit  here,'  and  I  sit  down  so 
meekly.  He  told  me  that  he  felt  as  if  everybody 
ought  to  read  that  book  on  Socialism,  and  I  have 
gone  through  it,  taking  twenty  pages  a  day,  al 
though  it  does  not  interest  me  at  all."  She  paused 
a  moment  and  looked  at  Constance  with  her  lim 
pid  glance.  "Then  you  wish  it,  darling,"  she 
added  conclusively  and  finally.  "  I  have  come  to 
think  that  marrying  him  would  be  the  best  thing 
that  could  happen  to  me.  I  intend  no  longer  to 
struggle  against  the  feeling." 

Constance  had  sunk  down  on  the  window  seat  at 
a  little  distance.  It  seemed  to  her  the  room  was 


202      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

turning  round.  It  was  their  favorite  nest,  fresh, 
coquettish,  elegant,  hung  in  pale  blue,  with  rows  of 
white  jars  at  the  windows  full  of  flowering  plants ; 
a  large  picture  of  Bernard  Garner  filled  the  space 
over  the  mantel,  innumerable  sketches  in  pen-and- 
ink  and  water-colors  signed  by  their  friends  were 
grouped  on  the  walls,  and  everywhere,  on  tables  and 
cabinets,  were  a  hundred  pretty  feminine  knick- 
knacks.  The  place  was  full  of  soft  light  and  cheer 
ful  heat,  but  what  Constance  experienced  was  a 
strange  bleakness,  a  desert  loneliness. 

"You  don't  say  anything?"  cried  Kathy  with 
a  pathetic  accent. 

"  It  is  all  so  incomprehensible  to  me,"  said  Con 
stance.  "  Some  dreadful  thing  happened,  you  say, 
which  changed  all  your  opinions  in  an  instant ;  yet 
you  do  not  tell  what  it  was." 

"  How  can  you  bring  it  all  back  ?  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  forget  it.  It  robs  me  of  all  my  self- 
respect.  I  want  to  look  forward  to  something  com 
fortable  instead." 

"  But  I  must  understand.  I  cannot  go  on  with 
this  horrible  feeling  that  something  painful  has 
happened  to  you.  The  earth  seems  to  shake  under 
my  feet." 

"  But,  Constance,  it  is  over  now,  and  I  wish  never 
to  think  of  it  again.  And  really  I  cannot  help 
feeling,"  pursued  Kathy  sentimentally,  "  as  if  there 
were  something  almost  providential  in  it.  It  has 
made  me  feel  my  loneliness  ;  I  never  before  quite 


KATHLEEN  MAKES   UP  HEE  MIND.        203 

realized  it.  I  see  now  that  I  was  never  meant  to 
go  about  in  this  irresponsible,  unrestrained  way.  I 
need  somebody  to  give  me  a  law  and  to  make  me 
obey  that  law." 

"  But  first,  dear  Kathy,  let  me  know  what  "  — 
"  If  /  can  bear  it,"  said  Kathy  with  some  state- 
liness,  "  if  I  can  afford  to  forget  and  forgive  it,  I 
do  really  consider  that  other  people  might  do  the 
same.  I  wish  you  would  talk  about  something 
pleasanter,  Constance.  Talk  about  the  future.  It 
is  so  odd  and  unexpected,"  she  continued,  blushing 
as  her  eager  glance  rose  to  the  other's  face,  "  that 
I  should  have  been  so  instantly  converted  to  your 
theories.  Now  when  you  first  spoke  about  Mr. 
Garthe  I  was  not  in  love  with  him  at  all.  I  en 
joyed  my  own  liberty.  Although  I  rather  liked  to 
think  about  the  idea,  look  at  it  in  different  lights, 
go  forward  and  back,  I  really  did  not  wish  to  marry 
anybody.  My  conception  of  happiness  was  to  live 
with  you  always.  It  is  so  sweet  here  with  you, 
dear.  I  think  I  vastly  prefer  women  to  men.  Of 
course  men  may  be  useful.  I  like  them  to  come  in 
and  see  me.  They  amuse  me, —  they  get  facts  at 
first  hand  and  tell  one  things,  and  they  are  inter 
esting  to  tell  things  to.  I  was  perfectly  satisfied 
to  go  on  as  we  were  going.  I  never  should  have 
tired  of  it.  But,  Constance,  —  I  see  now,  it  was  n't 
safe." 

Kathy,  absorbed  in  her   own    impressions,   did 
not  perceive  that  Constance  was  strangely  excited. 


204      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  her  color  came  and 
went,  her  hands  trembled. 

"  Kathy,"  she  said  forcibly,  "  I  insist  that  you 
shall  tell  me  what  happened." 

"  I  was  going  on  to  say,"  Kathy  proceeded,  gather 
ing  solemnity  into  voice  and  manner,  "  that  I  have 
utterly  changed  my  mind.  Some  women  may  be 
able  to  get  along  unmarried,  but  I  have  no  belief 
in  myself  any  longer.  I  need  a  husband  to  look 
after  me."  She  looked  at  Constance,  counting  on 
her  sympathy,  but  to  her  surprise  the  girl,  with  over 
flowing  tears,  suddenly  smote  her  temples  with  her 
hands,  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  looking  out  of 
the  window. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Kathy,  rather  aggrieved,  "  that 
you  at  least  would  be  pleased.  You  said  you  ap 
proved  of  my  marrying  again,  and  you  quite  in 
sisted  that  I  should  fall  in  love  with  Mr.  Garthe." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  what  happened  this  morning," 
said  Constance,  without  turning  away  from  the  win 
dow.  "  I  can  have  no  peace  of  mind  until  I  know." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  it  rest,"  returned  Kathy 
with  a  deep  sigh,  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands 
nervously. 

"  Tell  me,  Kathy  dear,"  said  Constance,  darting 
back  to  the  sofa,  sitting  down  beside  her  step 
mother  and  putting  her  arms  about  her.  "You 
know  so  well  that  whatever  you  suffer  I  suffer,  — 
whatever  you  feel  I  feel, —  whatever  happens  to 
you  happens  to  me.  If  anything  vexes  and  mortifies 


KATHLEEN  MAKES   UP  HER  MIND.        205 

you  I  cannot  live  until  I  do  my  best  to  overcome  it. 
Kathy,  darling  Kathy,  tell  me." 

"  You  will  say  it  is  all  my  fault,"  faltered  Kathy. 

"  But  if  it  is  your  fault  "  — 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  told  over  and  over,"  said 
Kathy,  rebellious  tears  gathering  in  her  lovely  blue 
eyes,  "  that  I  do  not  seem  to  have  any  sense  of  pro 
priety.  I  know  I  keep  doing  something  odd,  but 
such  odd  things  seem  to  happen  to  me.  I  have 
tried  to  school  myself  into  good  manners,  I  try  to 
be  rather  superior, — but  all  the  same,  I  —  "  she 
broke  off  with  a  sob. 

"  You  have  charming  manners,"  said  Constance 
warmly.  "  Your  mistakes  are  more  refreshing  than 
other  people's  perfections." 

"  Still,  you  admit  that  I  always  do  make  mis 
takes,"  Kathy  went  on.  "  You  said  the  other  night 
that  with  me  something  unexpected  always  hap 
pened.  You  know  it  was  at  that  dinner  at  the 
Frosts',  and  in  front  of  me  was  a  tall  pyramid  of 
fruit.  I  kept  saying  all  the  time  how  delightful  it 
was  ;  it  was  like  a  screen  and  hid  me  from  every 
body,  —  and  Teddy  Winslow  and  I  pretended  to 
have  great  goings  on  behind  it.  Then  all  at  once,  as 
he  was  skirmishing  after  my  glass  of  champagne,  I 
happened  to  touch  an  orange,  and  the  whole  edifice 
toppled  over  and  the  fruit  went  careering  madly 
down  the  table.  Of  course  everybody  stared  at  us 
and  made  jokes.  I  dared  not  raise  my  eyes  again 
all  through  the  dinner." 


20G      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

This  was  such  sheer  swerving  away  from  the 
subject  in  hand  that  Constance  would  not  conde 
scend  to  make  any  response  to  it. 

"Tell  me  what  happened,  Kathy  dear,"  she 
said  again,  and  as  she  spoke  put  her  hand  against 
the  soft  cheek  and  brought  the  face  close  to  hers. 
In  this  position  they  surveyed  each  other,  each 
with  moist  eyes,  quivering  lips,  and  crimson  cheeks. 

"  I  don't  want  to  tell,"  said  Kathy  nervously. 

"  But  you  will  tell  me,  dear.  Where  were  you 
when  it  happened  ?  " 

"  At  the  library,"  faltered  Kathy.  "  You  know 
that  you  yourself  asked  me  to  go  there  and  change 
a  book." 

"I  know.     Well?" 

"  As  I  went  up  the  stairs  it  seemed  to  me  I 
caught  sight  of  Mr.  Marchmont  going  into  the 
reading-room.  I  said  to  myself,  '  If  that  is  Mr. 
Marchmont  and  he  could  get  a  book  for  me  and  go 
shopping  with  me  and  then  to  Mrs.  Challoner's, 
and  then  come  back  with  me  to  lunch,  it  would  be 
charming.'  ' 

"  Of  course." 

"  You  know  I  really  thought  it  was  Mr.  March 
mont,"  said  Kathy  piteously.  "There  was  the 
same  hat,  the  same  greatcoat,  the  same  gray  trou 
sers.  It  djd  seem  a  little  singular  that  he  did  not 
see  me,  for  usually  he  catches  sight  of  me  at  any 
distance.  But  all  the  same  I  was  as  certain  that  it 
was  Mr.  Marchmont  as  that  this  is  you,  Constance. 


KATHLEEN  MAKES   UP  HER  MIND.        207 

The  question  was  how  to  get  at  him  in  the  men's 
reading-room.  Of  course  I  did  not  think  of  open 
ing  the  door  and  looking  in,  —  I  was  perfectly  well 
aware  that  that  would  never  have  done  ;  but  there 
was  a  little  crack  over  the  hinge,  and  I  peeped.  I 
suppose  I  saw  what  I  wanted  to  see,  for  I  was  posi 
tive  I  recognized  Mr.  Marchmont  and  nobody  else 
sitting  at  a  table,  just  at  the  left  of  the  entrance. 
There  was  Mr.  Marchmont's  hat,  Mr.  Marchmont's 
back  hair,  Mr.  Marchmont's  muffler,  greatcoat, 
and  tweed  trousers.  It  seemed  so  pleasant  to  see 
him  I  kept  staring  in  as  if  fascinated,  until  a  libra 
rian,  or  a  messenger  boy,  somebody  who  belonged 
to  the  institution,  came  out  of  the  opposite  door 
and  looked  at  me  as  if  quite  shocked.  '  Did  you 
want  anything  in  the  men's  reading-room  ? '  he 
asked,  as  if  he  supposed  I  was  looking  in  just  out 
of  feminine  curiosity.  So,  to  justify  myself,  I  told 
him  that  I  saw  a  very  particular  friend  of  mine  in 
side,  and  wished  to  speak  to  him.  He  had  lately 
entered,  he  sat  at  the  left  hand  of  the  door,  —  had 
a  white  silk  muffler,  black  felt  hat,  and  — '  Shall 
I  tell  him  there  is  a  lady  in  the  passage  waiting 
to  speak  to  him  ? '  asked  the  creature.  '  Yes ! '  I 
answered :  '  ask  him  to  come  out  at  once.' >!  She 
paused  ;  she  cowered ;  then,  as  if  gathering  herself 
up  by  a  supreme  effort,  she  cried  out  piteously, 
"  Oh,  Constance  !  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Constance,  inflexibly  prepared  to 
meet  the  worst. 


208      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  go  on  ?  "  moaned  Kathy. 

"  Did  the  man  go  after  Mr.  Marchmont  ?  " 

"  He  grinned,  —  he  grinned  hideously  ;  he  set  off 
at  a  run ;  he  gave  the  baize  doors  a  push,  darted 
inside,  and  left  me  waiting.  It  was  all  very  dis 
agreeable.  I  felt  like  —  like  Andromeda,  but  I 
expected  Mr.  Marchmont  to  come  and  deliver  me. 
I  stood  looking  at  the  doors,  expecting  shortly  to 
see  them  swing  wide  open.  Then  all  at  once  "  — 

"  They  opened  and  " 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,"  said  Kathy  in  desperation. 
"  They  did  open,  surely  enough  !  A  man's  figure 
appeared,  —  the  figure  of  a  youngish  man,  —  rather, 
in  an  odious  way,  a  good-looking  man  !  He  smiled, 
came  straight  towards  me.  I  stood  rooted  to  the 
spot.  I  seemed  to  have  grown  there.  Something 
held  my  eyes  staring  wide  open  at  him,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  supernatural  apparition.  My  throat  ached, 
—  my  tongue  was  glued  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth. 
He  came  nearer  and  nearer.  '  Is  this  the  lady 
who  is  waiting  to  speak  to  me  ? '  he  asked  in  a  soft, 
insinuating  way.  I  tried  to  speak,  to  tell  him  I 
had  quite  mistaken  him,  that  it  was  somebody  quite 
different  I  had  hoped  might  have  on  that  hat,  coat, 
and  muffler.  But  I  could  not  utter  a  syllable ;  I 
simply  felt  myself  growing  furiously  red.  4 1  shall 
be  so  glad  to  do  anything  for  you,'  the  horrible 
wretch  continued,  and  tried  to  take  my  hand.  It 
was  as  if  his  touch  were  needed  to  set  me  free.  I 
moved,  I  turned,  I  darted  down  the  stairs.  He 


KATHLEEN  MAKES  -UP  HER  MIND.       209 

was  following  me.  The  heavy  door  stopped  me. 
As  I  was  fumbling  at  the  handle,  he  had  time  to  ap 
proach.  4  Allow  me,'  he  said,  and  held  it  open  with 
the  most  overwhelming  politeness.  I  rushed  past 
him  without  a  look  or  word  ;  at  the  corner  I  turned, 
I  saw  him  coming ;  I  ran  up  the  street,  rounded  a 
second  corner !  He  was  still  on  my  steps." 

"Did  he  overtake  you?"  Constance  inquired 
anxiously. 

"  I  did  not  see  him  any  more.  When  I  mounted 
our  own  door-steps,  I  looked  round  fearfully,  but 
there  was  nobody  in  the  street." 

She  paused,  exhausted,  and,  too  much  abashed  to 
raise  her  eyes,  kept  them  fixed  on  her  lap. 

"  And  that  was  all  ?  "  inquired  Constance,  with 
a  feeling  of  relief. 

"  All  ?  "  repeated  Kathy  tragically.  "  I  thought 
it  was  quite  enough." 

"  It  was  uncomfortable,  certainly,"  said  Con 
stance  soothingly.  "But  if  I  were  you  I  should 
not  think  of  it  again." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  recall  it,"  cried  Kathy,  with 
great  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes  afresh.  "  I 
begged  you  over  and  over  to  let  it  all  pass,  but  you 
would  insist ;  and  now  that  I  have  brought  myself 
to  confess  it,  you  have  an  air  of  not  minding.  I 
supposed  that  even  if  you  told  me  I  had  brought  it 
all  on  myself  you  still  would  sympathize  with  me." 

"  I  am  indignant  with  the  man  ;  I  do  sympathize 
with  you,"  said  Constance,  endeavoring  to  animate 


210      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

her  features  with  pity  and  with  wrath.     "  I  blame 
myself  for  letting  you  go  out  alone.     You  are  too 

—  too  pretty,  Kathy ;   too  —  too  attractive  ;  too  — • 
too  young  — 

"  Yes,"  faltered  Kathy.  "  I  see  it  all,  and  I  shall 
have  to  marry  Mr.  Garthe  in  self-defense."  She 
glanced  timidly  at  Constance,  who  grew  pale  and 
averted  her  face  ;  then  with  a  sense  of  being  left  un 
aided  to  fight  her  battle,  Kathy  exclaimed,  with  a 
note  of  protest,  almost  of  indignation  in  her  voice, 
"  You  know  very  well  it  was  you  who  put  the  idea 
into  my  head.  You  said  you  wanted  me  to  marry, 
and  the  moment  Mr.  Garthe  began  coming  you 
showed  me  in  every  way  that  —  in  fact  you  seemed 
quite  to  insist  on  it." 

Her  words  penetrated  Constance,  rousing  her 
conscience.  It  was  all  true. 

"  You  don't  usually  go  forward  and  back,"  mur 
mured  Kathy.  She  did  not  possess  the  faculty  of 
reading  what  went  on  inside  of  other  minds,  yet 
she  had  a  quick  instinct  to  perceive  something  alien, 
something  inhospitable  in  Constance  to  this  sugges 
tion. 

"  If  I  do  want  you  to  marry  again,"  said  Con 
stance  wistfully,  "  it  is  only  because  we  are  not  rich, 

—  because  —  "  she  broke  off.     "  But  it  shocks  me 
to  think  of  my  seeming  to  single  out  a  stranger  — 
a- 

"  He  is  not  a  stranger  now,"  said  Kathy.  "  I 
know  him  as  well  —  almost  better  than  I  know 
anybody." 


KATHLEEN  MAKES    UP  HER  MIND,        211 

"  Oh,  Kathy,  not  as  you  know  dear  Mr.  March- 
mont !  " 

"  Of  course  not  as  Mr.  Marchmont.  But  then 
he  is  different." 

" How  different?" 

"  I  thought  we  were  talking  of  somebody  young 
enough  —  young  enough  for  me  to  fall  in  love  with," 
murmured  Kathy  bashfully. 

"  But,  Kathy,  Mr.  Marchmont  is  not  quite  as  old 
as  papa  was." 

"  He  is  thirteen  months  younger,  but  that  is  no 
particular  difference  in  age,"  said  Kathy,  with  a 
hopeless  sigh.  "  Until  you  told  me  you  considered 
that  your  father  was  too  old  for  me,  such  an  idea 
had  never  occurred  to  me,  and  at  first  it  hurt  me,  — 
it  hurt  me  cruelly.  Then  after  turning  the  matter 
over  in  my  mind,  I  could  not  help  seeing  that  it 
might  be  true.  It  gave  me  quite  a  shock  to  reflect 
that  if  Bernard  had  lived  until  I  was  seventy,  he 
would  have  been  about  a  hundred  years  old." 

Perplexity  gathered  on  the  brow  of  Constance. 

"  But  after  all,"  she  observed,  taking  a  momentary 
survey  of  this  hypothesis,  "  the  thirty  years  between 
you  seem  to  have  counted  more  when  you  were 
eighteen  and  he  was  forty-seven.  Yet  you  had 
never  minded  that  disparity." 

"  No,"  said  Kathy  with  another  sigh,  "  it  would 
have  seemed  to  me  treasonable,  not  to  say  ridicu 
lous." 

"  He  was  so  interested  in  everything  you  did. 


212      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

Think  how  he  used  to  admire  your  gowns,  —  what 
sweet  loving  little  flatteries  he  had  for  you !  " 

"  I  know,  —  I  know  better  than  you  can  tell  me." 

"  An  older  man  loves  youth  for  youth's  sake ;  it 
touches  him  to  think  that  his  wife  is  young,"  con 
tinued  Constance.  "  Mr.  Marchmont  and  papa 
were  alike  in  having  a  mingling  of  quiet  sympathy 
and  bright  humor,  which  kept  them  in  touch  with 
life.  I  have  heard  you  say  that  with  Mr.  March- 
inont  you  are  never  at  a  loss,  —  that  you  are  certain 
he  feels  everything  with  you,  understands  every 
thing." 

"  Of  course  that  is  true,"  said  Kathy. 

44  Nobody  else  can  be  as  much  to  you  as  Mr. 
Marchmont,"  said  Constance  with  a  peculiar  vibrat 
ing  rote  in  her  voice.  44  No  lesser,  newer  friend 
can  take  his  place." 

Kathy  made  a  gesture  of  despair. 

44  But  why  do  you  bring  it  all  up,  when  you  know 
you  have  put  such  different  thoughts  in  my  head  ?  " 
she  cried  as  if  stung  by  regrets,  even  while  thrilling 
under  the  consciousness  of  other  and  fresher  privi 
leges.  44  You  said  you  wanted  me  to  fall  in  love 
with  somebody  of  my  own  age,  somebody  quite  dif 
ferent  from  —  from  your  dear  father,  who  could  — 
Unless  you  had  suggested  it,  Constance,  it  would 
have  seemed  to  me  the  most  dreadful  disloyalty. 
But  I  was  sure  you  knew,  — you  are  always  so  just, 
so  wise  I  And  now  that  I  have  accepted  you  as  my 
guide,  my  philosopher,  my  friend,  and  have  fallen  in 


KATHLEEN  MAKES  UP  HER  MIND.    213 

love  with  somebody  else,  younger  and  more  charm 
ing,  you  begin  to  try  to  make  me  feel  sorrowful  and 
repentant." 

Constance  writhed  in  torture.  "  Oh,  Kathy  9 
don't  say  such  terrible  things,"  she  faltered. 

"  It  is  true,  and  I  must  say  it,"  persisted  Kathy 
recklessly.  "  It  would  have  seemed  to  me  wicked 
to  fall  in  love.  I  had  never  thought  of  falling  in 
love.  But  you  wanted  me  to  fall  in  love,  and  I 
have  fallen  in  love." 

Constance  was  appalled.  With  all  her  yearning 
tenderness  for  Kathy,  her  desire  to  see  her  happy, 
had  she  actually  prepared  for  her  such  a  pitfall  as 
this,  and  led  her  blindly  towards  it  ?  Was  Kathy 
actually  in  love  with  Garthe  ?  Yesterday,  at  such 
a  declaration  as  this  she  had  just  made,  Constance 
would  have  accepted  it  as  something  real.  To-day 
she  was  wiser.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  it. 
Women  did  not  fall  in  love  in  that  way,  when  love 
meant  the  motive  power  of  life,  an  influence  subdu 
ing,  transfiguring,  re-creating.  Kathy  had  not 
seen  Garthe  for  two  days,  and  yet  had  been  until 
now  in  an  everyday  mood,  speaking  of  him  casually, 
not  even  in  her  thoughts  seeming  to  dwell  on  him 
with  particular  interest.  This  sudden  gust  of  feel 
ing  was  wholly  unaccountable,  except  on  a  theory 
of  whim  and  caprice.  For  Constance  said  within 
herself,  until  one  had  seen  Lawrence  Garthe  as  she 
herself  had  seen  him  last  night,  with  his  air  of  quiet 
persistence,  his  vivid  look,  which  seemed  to  fasten 


214      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

upon  one  and  penetrate  one's  most  secret  thoughts, 
had  met  his  smile,  had  heard  his  voice,  had  felt  the 
clasp  of  his  hand,  one  simply  had  no  idea  of  him.  A 
wave  of  feeling,  of  deep  experience,  of  triumphant 
joy,  surged  over  Constance.  "  No,'*  she  said  to 
herself,  "  there  is  nothing  between  him  and  Kathy 
that  all  have  not  seen  and  heard.*' 

"  Why  do  you  smile  ?  "  asked  Kathy  almost  with 
reproach. 

"  Did  I  smile  ?  "  said  Constance.  "  I  suppose  I 
was  wondering  if  it  had  actually  come  to  pass  that 
you  were  in  love." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  very  much  in  love,"  cried  Kathy 
almost  with  indignation.  "  I  think  of  nothing  else." 

Constance  did  not  reply  by  words,  but  there  was 
a  dimple  in  her  cheek,  and  a  certain  arch  elevation 
of  the  eyebrows.  She  shook  her  head  skeptically. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Kathy  recklessly.  tfc  I  do 
think  of  him  all  the  time  almost  and  I  am  in  love 
deeply."  She  paused  a  moment  as  if  to  weigh  the 
effect  of  the  thunderbolt  she  had  launched,  then 
went  on.  "  When  I  was  going  to  be  married  first  I 
thought  of  nothing  except  that  I  should  have  ever 
so  many  new  clothes,  and  that  at  last  I  should  have 
a  chance  to  go  North.  Now,"  she  added  with  in 
tense  solemnity,  "  I  do  not  think  of  those  trivial 
matters  at  all." 

This  innocent  and  unhesitating  assumption  with 
which  Kathy  took  everything  for  granted,  drawing 
with  eager  faith  on  the  absolutely  conjectural  to 


KATHLEEN  MAKES  UP  HER  MIND.    215 

supply  any  chance  deficit,  had  often  enough  de 
lighted  Constance  ;  but  now  it  not  only  seemed  to 
invite  tribulation,  but  it  made  her  feel  disloyal. 
She  said  very  softly  :  — 

"  But  one  has  to  think,  dear,  whether  Mr.  Garthe 
on  his  side  — "  she  broke  off ;  she  felt  as  if 
treachery  lurked  behind  her  words,  as  she  met 
the  full  upturned  glance. 

"  Oh,"  murmured  Kathy  with  a  delightful  blush, 
"  I  cannot  have  the  least  doubt  about  his  feelings." 
It  was  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  exquisite  sin 
cerity  of  look  and  tone. 

Constance  was  silent.  She  could  not  pursue 
that  line  of  argument. 

"  What  I  cannot  understand  is,"  Kathy  con 
tinued,  pressing  gently  against  the  other's  protecting 
arm,  "  that  you  do  not  seem  more  glad.  It  is  just 
what  you  wished." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  dear,  no  doubt  of  that," 
said  Constance. 

It  was  lunch  time,  and  when  the  meal  was  over 
it  was  necessary  for  her  to  see  that  their  rooms 
were  in  readiness.  It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  Fin- 
de-Siecle  Club,  and  it  was  a  comfort  to  observe 
that  Kathy  could  enter  into  certain  small  prepara 
tions  with  some  zest,  although  she  'had  eaten  almost 
nothing,  observing  that  she  was  still  shuddering 
over  the  horrible  experience  of  the  morning.  It 
had,  she  declared  anew,  brought  a  sense  of  the  most 
everyday  things  being  ominous,  dangerous.  She 


216      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

was  dismayed,  crushed  in  spirit,  and  longed  for 
nothing  so  much  as  the  chance  to  sit  down  quietly 
and  wait  for  rescue. 

"  Do   you   suppose   he  will  come  ? "  she   asked 
Constance  in  a  whisper. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AT   THE    FIN-DE-SIECLE. 

IT  was  the  way  of  the  Fin-de-Si£cle  Club  to  sit 
in  rows  of  chairs  and  listen  to  an  essay  or  lecture 
on  some  subject  which  was  later  to  be  discussed 
by  all  the  members.  The  keynote  was  modernite, 
the  attitude  of  the  members  was  receptivity,  —  an 
acceptance  of  any  theory  no  matter  how  detached 
and  transitory,  capable  of  being  regarded  as  a  prin 
ciple  of  human  existence  in  the  present  or  future. 
It  was  the  fashion  to  belong  to  the  Fin-de-Siecle. 
Mrs.  Challoner  was  one  of  its  promoters,  and  since 
its  only  real  object  was  to  gather  impressions  and 
to  keep  in  touch  with  the  questions  of  the  hour, 
the  individual  convictions  of  Kathleen  and  Con 
stance  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  following 
Mrs.  Challoner.  Constance,  who  from  her  earli 
est  girlhood  had  felt  an  instinctive  seriousness,  a 
scrupulosity  of  conscience,  a  desire  to  immolate 
herself,  had  so  far  been  content  with  the  oppor 
tunities  of  her  own  individual  existence.  Her 
young  step-mother  had  indeed  provided  her  with 
a  special  ground  for  ample  exercise  of  her  sym 
pathy  and  prescience,  her  wish  for  rigorous  self- 
discipline.  So  far  she  had  not  cared  deeply  for 


218      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

the  Fin-de-Siecle  Club,  —  less  than  Kathy,  indeed, 
who  was  very  impressionable  and  for  whom  any 
basis  of  ultimate  incertitude  possessed  fascinations 
of  a  high  order. 

When  Kathy  had  asked  "  Do  you  think  he  will 
come  to-day  ? "  Constance  had  known  very  well 
that  Garthe  could  not  keep  away  on  this,  of  all 
days ;  that  he  was  sure  not  to  miss  a  chance 
of  seeing  her,  of  meeting  her  glance,  of  passing 
speech  with  her.  She  knew  it  from  her  own  need 
of  seeing  him,  of  his  quick  sympathy,  his  divina 
tion,  his  swift  decision. 

As  the  members  of  the  club  gathered,  Constance 
observed  Kathy  with  wonder  and  with  admiration. 
To  herself  it  was  to-day  constraint  —  almost  tor 
ture  —  to  be  compelled  to  move  about  and  address 
indifferent  people.  Her  own  heart  was  beating 
excitedly,  the  color  came  and  went  in  her  face,  she 
was  grave,  unpliant,  already  weary  of  the  occasion. 
Kathy,  on  the  other  hand,  was  frankly  and  irresist 
ibly  gay,  giving  her  opinion  on  every  subject, — 
not  only  her  opinion  but  illustrating  her  views 
by  rapid  summaries  of  experience,  amusing  little 
confessions;  flying  from  one  subject  to  another, 
complimenting  one  woman  on  the  chic  of  her 
gown,  asking  another  what  she  thought  about  the 
morality  of  the  new  novel  everybody  was  reading. 
Impossible  for  Constance  to  believe  that  she  was 
under  the  sway  of  passion,  even  of  deep  senti 
ment  ;  if  she  had  felt  the  tyranny  of  a  fixed  idea 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  219 

she  could  not  have  been  thus  many-sided,  thus 
light-hearted. 

The  lecturer  of  the  day  had  taken  her  place  at 
half -past  three,  and  within  five  minutes  had  begun 
her  paper,  entitled  "An  Evil  not  without  a 
Remedy." 

Lawrence  Garthe,  ascending  the  steps  of  the 
house  on  Lexington  Avenue  twenty  minutes 
later,  was  just  about  to  press  the  button  of  the 
bell,  when  the  door  opened  softly  and  invisibly,  and 
he  found  himself  unexpectedly  entering  a  hall  full 
of  people.  He  had  no  time  for  choice,  or  he  might 
have  retreated.  It  was  a  crowd  consisting  chiefly 
of  ladies,  although  here  and  there  were  to  be  seen 
persons  of  his  own  sex,  each  of  whom  turned 
towards  him  with  a  look  of  sensible  relief  as  if 
rejoicing  to  see  another  man  who  must  accept  a 
share  of  the  responsibility. 

A  feminine  voice  of  rich  sonorous  quality  was 
heard  issuing  from  the  main  drawing-room.  "  You 
say  gracefully,  4 1  have  all  the  rights  I  want,  I 
prefer  to  ask  for  privileges,  —  the  precious  privi 
leges  of  safety,  exclusion,  care,  tenderness,  the 
sense  of  being  considered  by  man  a  precious,  a 
sacred  thing.'  Yes,  that  is  charming ;  and  no 
doubt  the  world  is  what  we  think  it,  and  our  part 
in  existence  is  our  own  individual  experience,  our 
own  individual  consciousness.  You,  loving  beauty 
and  joyfulness,  reverencing  your  own  soul,  faith 
ful  to  deep  and  sacred  emotions,  rejecting  every- 


220      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

thing  sordid,  ugly,  and  inharmonious,  may  select 
out  of  your  environment  whatever  gives  perma 
nence  to  the  highest  and  best  ideal. 

"  J3ut  there  are  half-fainting  women  and  girls 
shut  in  close  hideous  rooms,  toiling  with  needles, 
with  scissors,  with  machines,  with  paste-pots,  who 
have  no  power  of  selection  or  of  choice.  Think 
what  your  hours  mean  !  music,  art,  literature, 
companionship,  stimulus,  sunshine,  and  fresh  air ; 
theirs  !  —  let  me  give  a  few  statistics  :  — 

"  Paper  bag  makers  get  from  ten  to  fifteen  cents 
a  thousand  bags ;  buttonhole  makers,  five,  six,  and 
seven  cents  for  a  dozen  buttonholes  ;  boys'  trousers 
makers,  thirty-five  cents  a  dozen  pairs ;  basters  get 
thirty  cents  a  dozen ;  finishers,  from  five  to  eight 
cents  a  garment  of  the  kind  which  gives  them  a 
chance  to  finish  four  in  a  day." 

"Isn't  it  horrible?"  said  a  voice  in  Garthe's 
ear  as  he  stood  confounded.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
never  dare  to  be  happy  again." 

It  was  Kathy,  and  he  looked  at  her  with  an  odd 
mingling  of  sensations. 

"  Who  is  it  speaking? "  he  asked. 

"Miss  Eugenia  Shepard,  the  great  humani 
tarian." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  intruded  where  I  had  no 
right." 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  our  Fin-de-Siecle  Club,"  said 
Kathy.  "  \Ve  took  it  this  time  and  asked  Miss 
Shepard  to  speak.  She  is  getting  to  be  a  great 
favorite.  She  gives  one  sensations." 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  221 

u  I  do  not  belong  to  the  club,"  said  Garthe.  "  I 
will  go  away  and  come  at  some  quieter  time." 

"  Don't  go  away ;  I  will  find  a  quiet  place  for 
you." 

He  had  bent  his  ear  to  Kathy's  lips  ;  now,  raising 
his  head,  he  heard  the  words  from  within :  — 

"And  this  meagre,  hunger-bitten  experience  is 
no  accident,  no  casual  freak  of  fortune,  but  the 
condition  of  their  lives  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave." 

"  Come  into  the  library,"  said  Kathy,  delighted 
with  the  opportunity.  She  stood,  a  slim  figure  in 
black,  with  her  delicate  face,  and  hair  like  an 
aureole,  and  beckoned  ;  he  followed. 

"  I  hope  you  believe  in  what  she  says,"  Kathy 
observed  anxiously. 

"  Believe  !  Who  can  help  it  ?  "  said  Garthe.  "  I 
wish  to  heaven  I  need  not  believe  it.  These  hor 
rible  inequalities,  these  injustices  to  women,  to  chil 
dren,  to  animals,  to  men  even,  strong  and  willing 
and  eager  for  good,  honest,  faithful  work,  come 
over  me  so  at  times  they  threaten  to  drive  me 
mad." 

"  It  is  all  going  to  be  cured,"  said  Kathy. 

"  Is  it  ?  "  returned  Garthe.  They  were  standing 
together  in  the  little  alcove  which  led  to  the  bay 
window  in  the  library. 

uYes,"  said  Kathy,  "just  as  soon  as  we  have 
the  suffrage." 

Garthe  did  not  answer;  he  was  bending  his 
head  and  listening. 


222      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"Don't  you  believe  in  female  suffrage?"  in 
quired  Kathy,  feeling  as  if  perhaps  her  enthusiasm 
might  after  all  be  a  mere  foolish  truancy,  and  she 
had  better  run  back  to  a  safe  place. 

"If  you  wish  for  it  very  much  I  shall  not  stand 
in  your  way,"  said  Garthe,  smiling,  although  his 
brow  was  still  a  little  knitted. 

44  But  if  we  could  make  everything  go  right  ? " 
said  Kathy  eagerly. 

"Exactly,  if  you  could  make  everything  go 
right." 

44  Men  are  so  bad  "  — 

44 1  agree  with  you  ;  we  are  abominable.'1' 

44  And  it  is  so  necessary  to  do  something  for 
those  poor  women  who  suffer  with  unchanging 
need,  unchanging  pain  " 

44  Do  all  you  can,"  said  Garthe.  He  smiled  at 
her,  and  indeed  she  possessed  at  the  moment  all 
the  prettiness  needed  to  cast  a  spell  over  a  man. 
The  speaker's  voice  penetrated  even  here. 

44  Until  he  gives  us  what  we  want,  let  us  con 
sider  him  an  enemy,  with  whom  no  terms  can  be 
made.  Safety,  peace  ?  It  is  the  safety  of  death, 
the  peace  of  being  nothing,  —  of  counting  for 
nothing! " 

44  What  is  it  we  must  give  you?"  inquired 
Garthe. 

44  Emancipation,  the  suffrage,  equal  wages,  equal 
rights,"  said  Kathy,  herself  a  little  puzzled  and 
somewhat  frightened  at  the  thought  of  what  might 
possibly  be  a  conflict  of  duties. 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  223 

"  I  remember  hearing  of  this  Miss  Shepard. 
What  sort  of  a  woman  is  she  ?  "  inquired  Garthe. 
"  She  has  a  fine  voice." 

"Not  pretty,  not  well  dressed,"  said  Kathy, 
"  but  I  admire  her.  I  should  like  to  resemble  her 
exactly." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  do  not  believe  that." 

"  Come  and  be  introduced  to  her." 

"  Not  for  worlds.  She  has  just  proclaimed  me 
an  enemy  with  whom  no  terms  can  be  made." 

"  She  does  n't  mean  it,"  said  Kathy  consolingly. 
"  She  says  sometimes  that  everything  just  at  pres 
ent  is  transitional,  revolutionary.  Of  course,  we 
cannot  go  on  endlessly  holding  men  to  be  enemies 
with  whom  we  can  have  nothing  to  do.  She  has  to 
say  these  things  positively,  but  I  don't  think  she 
altogether  dislikes  men.  Indeed,  Mr.  Marchmont 
and  she  got  on  capitally,  although  he  told  her  she 
reminded  him  of  the  Fat  Boy  in  Pickwick,  who 
went  up  to  the  old  lady  and  said,  .'  I  wants  to 
make  your  flesh  creep  ! '  I  wish  you  would  come 
and  be  introduced  presently." 

"  No,  thank  you.  She  has  already  made  my 
flesh  creep." 

"  And  if  Miss  Shepard  is  a  mere  embodied  in 
tellect,  as  somebody  called  her,  she  has  a  friend,  a 
beautiful  widow,  who  is  said  to  be  very  rich,  who 
might  fascinate  you,  a  Mrs.  Hernandez." 

"Is  she  here?"  he  inquired,  with  evident  sur 
prise. 


224      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

"  Do  you  know  her,  then  ?  " 

"  Hartley  has  spoken  of  her." 

"  Does  lie  know  her  ?  " 

"  Very  well  indeed." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Kathy,  with  the  true  feminine 
eagerness  to  see  the  woman  with  whom  a  man  she 
has  known  is  ready  to  fall  in  love.  kk  I  must  go 
and  look  at  her  again.  Besides,  I  ought  not  to  " 

"  Of  course,  go,"  said  Garthe.  "  I  will  sit  down 
quietly  out  of  the  way.  Do  not  think  of  any  re 
sponsibility  towards  me." 

"  Presently  there  will  be  tea  and  chocolate ; 
Constance  will  oft'er  them  here  in  the  library." 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  If  I  happen  to  see  her,  I  will 
tell  her  you  are  here." 

Kathy,  who  had  been  conscious  while  she  looked 
at  Garthe  and  talked  to  him  that  she  had  not  yet 
quite  measured  the  gulf  of  strangeness  between 
them,  that  she  knew  him  less  intimately  than  she 
had  supposed,  hurried  away.  "After  all,  I  am 
rather  afraid  of  him,"  she  said  to  herself.  He 
seemed  too  remote ;  too  immovable.  It  was  clear 
that  Miss  Shepard's  challenge  had  roused  feeling 
in  him  of  some  sort.  "  lie  looks  as  if  he  had  been 
everywhere,  to  heaven  and  to  hell,"  said  Kathy. 
"I  am  a  little  in  awe  of  him.  I  'm  afraid  I  shall 
not  always  enjoy  him."  But  all  the  same  it  flat 
tered  her  instincts  that  she  could  make  his  face 
light  up,  that  she  could  amuse  him.  "  Of  course, 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  225 

I  am  not  sublime,"  said  poor  little  Kathy ;  "  and 
I  do  not  want  to  be  sublime." 

Garthe  sat  down  in  the  alcove  and  waited. 
Miss  Shepard's  voice  was  no  longer  heard,  but 
others  were  raised,  some  more  harsh  and  shrill, 
and  again  low  and  even-toned.  The  discussion 
did  not  interest  him,  brought  rather  a  sensation  of 
skepticism,  unreality,  not  of  a  real  feeling  which 
has  gone  through  and  through  a  life,  coloring  it  in 
delibly.  He  forgot  to  listen,  and  his  mind  reverted 
to  Constance,  to  the  subtle  significance  of  his  hav 
ing  intruded  here  on  this  field-day.  In  the  terri 
ble  game  he  had  so  far  had  to  play  with  Fate,  in 
which  the  everyday  facts  of  life,  the  nature  of 
things,  had  seemed  to  be  on  the  other  side,  he  was 
at  last  a  winner.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that, 
now  that  an  irrepressible  conflict  between  the  sexes 
was  being  proclaimed,  it  might  be  the  best  thing 
he  could  do  to  stand  up  before  these  clever  but 
inexperienced  women,  inspired  by  a  longing  for 
great  achievement,  likely  to  prove  dangerous  from 
their  lack  of  self-knowledge  and  of  humility  be 
fore  the  elementary  facts  of  human  existence, — 
tell  them  a  man's  side  of  the  story,  and  let  them 
take  issue  on  the  right  and  wrong  of  his  own  vexa 
tious  wrestle  with  destiny.  They  were  talking 
about  victims  who  felt  the  fetters  upon  them, 
whose  lives  were  the  lives  of  captives  without  hope 
of  release.  He,  too,  knew  something  of  what  it  is 
to  struggle  against  everything  and  everybody  for 


226      THE  STORY   OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

his  daily  existence ;  to  be  conquered  and  have  to 
reconquer ;  to  bear  himself  through  the  difficulties 
of  a  false  position  with  a  feeling  of  carrying  about 
with  him  an  omnipresent  lie  which  took  the 
worth  out  of  his  every  effort,  which  oppressed, 
burdened,  and  tainted  even  the  love  he  felt  for 
Constance.  Then  he  smiled  at  the  impulse. 
Somehow,  he  had  to  free  his  heart  from  its  bur 
den  ;  somehow,  he  had  to  meet  inflexible  reality  and 
look  it  in  the  face,  —  but  not  here,  not  now,  not  to 
day. 

The  odor  of  violets  crossed  him.  He  had  sent 
a  box  to  Constance  that  morning.  He  rose  and 
advanced  to  the  curtain  of  the  alcove.  She  had 
entered  the  room,  —  she  was  directing  the  men  at 
the  tea-table. 

"Let  me  help  you  in  some  way,"  he  said,  ap 
proaching  her. 

He  was  struck  by  the  look  in  her  eyes  as  she 
raised  them ;  of  sustained  expectation  which  the 
event  of  his  coming  answered.  He  did  not  offer 
to  shake  hands  with  her. 

"  Did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No."  She  was  not  in  the  least  degree  embar 
rassed  ;  what  she  felt  instead  was  an  irresistible 
sense  of  joy  in  his  glance ;  in  the  ease  and  direct 
ness  with  which  he  approached  her. 

"  You  have  to  make  tea  for  all  these  people  ?  " 
he  asked,  indicating  the  equipage. 

"I  shall  sit  down  and  make  U a  within  the  limits 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  227 

of  my  teapot,"  she  returned,  smiling  as  their  eyes 
met.  "  Meantime,  the  men  will  offer  tea  and  choco 
late  which  somebody  else  has  made." 

"  Please  make  me  a  cup,"  he  said.  He  was 
struck,  as  he  had  never  been  struck  before,  by  her 
beauty ;  by  her  brilliant  eyes,  the  clear  pallor  of 
her  skin,  the  rich  color  of  her  lips.  On  her  side, 
she  experienced  an  added  sense  of  the  calm  dignity, 
the  repose,  of  his  face  and  manner ;  to-day,  even 
more  than  yesterday,  she  was  conscious  of  his  love 
being  something  absolute  and  real. 

"  I  ought  not  to  be  here,  I  suppose,"  he  now  ob 
served.  "  I  am  not  a  Fin-de-Siecle.  Why  did  fou 
not  tell  me  last  night  you  were  to  have  this  assem 
blage  of  people  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it." 

"But  you  expected  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said;  the  dimple  showed  in  her 
cheek.  She  had  taken  her  seat  at  the  table  before 
the  urn,  her  side-face  towards  the  door,  where  there 
were  groups  of  people  constantly  changing.  He 
stood  at  her  left,  with  his  back  to  them. 

"  Have  you  been  thinking  about  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  little." 

"  I  knew,  the  moment  I  saw  you,"  he  said  tri 
umphantly,  "  that  you  had  thought  of  me  a  great 
deal.  You  have  even  grown  to  care  a  trifle  more 
for  me  than  you  did  last  night." 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  If  everything  were  simple  and  easy,"  he  went 


228      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

on,  "  if  I  had  nothing  to  conquer,  nothing  to  thrust 
aside,  if  I  could  freely  put  out  my  hand  and  clasp 
yours,  I  should  be  afraid  of  my  happiness.  I 
blamed  myself  after  I  had  gone  away  last  night." 

She  looked  towards  him  eagerly.  lie  con 
tinued  :  — 

"  I  said  to  myself, '  She  does  not  know  me  yet.'" 

She  smiled. 

tk  I  suppose  I  know  you  as  well  as  you  know  me," 
she  murmured. 

"  No.  You  can  have  little  idea  of  me.  I  have 
much  in  my  experience  you  will  not  like.  Life 
hat  been  for  me  no  smooth  and  easy  road.  I  have 
all  sorts  of  elements  in  me,  some  fierce.  Yet,  when 
I  tell  you  my  history,  you  will  feel  for  me,  you 
will  feel  with  me.  There  is  nothing  you  cannot 
sympathize  with,  not  to  say  forgive." 

Her  eyes  were  raised  to  his.  An  intense  surge 
of  color  swept  over  her  face. 

u  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  said  simply. 

"  You  are  not  afraid  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  afraid." 

He  loved  her  for  her  courage,  her  decision  ;  but 
ill  the  more  he  sighed. 

"  You  know,"  he  said  in  a  different  tone,  "  that 
\  have  a  little  boy  seven  years  old." 

Her  lips  and  her  eyelids  quivered  ;  again  a  blush 
rose  to  her  cheeks,  this  time  soft  and  rosy.  "  Yes," 
she  said  shyly;  then  raising  her  eyes  she  asked 
gently,  "  What  is  his  name  ?  " 


AT  THE  FIN-DE-SIECLE.  229 

"  The  same  as  mine.     Do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Lawrence."  He  could  see  her  lips  form  the 
word,  although  no  sound  issued  from  them.  He 
gave  a  little  sigh  as  of  relief,  of  ineffable  contento 
There  came  into  his  heart  as  he  looked  down  at  the 
girl  an  indescribable,  an  almost  infinite  sense  of 
salvation,  of  peace  ;  a  new  future  lay  before  him, 
glorious  in  the  light  of  heaven. 

Mr.  Marchmont,  who  had  entered  the  room  with 
Mrs.  Challoner,  stood  watching  the  two  with  a  half 
smile.  The  club  was  breaking  up  ;  the  members, 
telling  each  other  how  many  engagements  still  un 
accomplished  must  be  fulfilled  before  dinner,  were 
hurrying  away,  the  impression  of  the  lecture  they 
had  just  listened  to  already  blurred  by  the  thought 
of  what  was  to  follow. 

"  Go  and  tell  Constance  she  ought  to  come  and 
say  good-by  to  Miss  Shepard,"  said  Mrs.  Chal 
loner  ;  and  Mr.  Marchmont,  with  a  look  of  inscru 
table  self-possession,  advanced  very  slowly,  so 
slowly  that  his  approach  was  hardly  apparent.  It 
seemed  to  him  such  a  pity  to  interrupt  the  conver 
sation.  Jealousy  had  tormented  him  sorely  where 
Garthe  was  concerned ;  but  since  last  evening  he 
had  enjoyed  some  peace  of  mind,  and  now  to  see 
the  young  fellow  absorbed  in  Constance  and  ab 
sorbing  her,  was  something  to  be  devoutly  thankful 
for.  Hence,  he  was  so  excessively  deliberate  that 
Mrs.  Challoner  herself  overtook  him,  and  carried 
Constance  the  news  that  Miss  Shepard  had  gone. 


230      THE  STORY   OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  She  could  not  wait  to  bid  you  good-by,"  said 
Mrs.  Challoncr.  "  She  had  to  be  at  the  guild  by 
five  o'clock,  and  it  was  already  late.  She  was 
sorry  not  to  see*you,  and  so  was  Mrs.  Hernandez. 
Beautiful  woman,  is  n't  she  ?  and  what  a  contrast 
to  Miss  Shepard  !  " 

"  I  suppose  Miss  Shepard  takes  the  beautiful 
widow  round  that  she  may  touch  the  hearts  and 
intellects  she  herself  cannot  reach." 

"That  is,  the  men's,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner. 
"Did  she  convert  you  to  Woman's  Rights?  " 

"  I  did  not  need  to  be  converted,"  said  Mr. 
Marchmont.  "  I  believe  devoutly  in  Woman's 
Rights  already." 

"What  sort  of  rights?"  said  Mrs.  Challoner 
suspiciously. 

"All  sorts  of  rights,  whatever  you  set  your 
minds  on.  I  want  you  all  to  do  whatever  you 
choose.  Of  course,"  Mr.  Marchmont  added  mourn 
fully,  with  a  little  glance  at  Garthe,  "  we  should 
like  to  have  a  little  liberty  left,  but  it 's  no  great 
matter,  and  we  don't  deserve  it." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Garthe  cordially. 

"  Oh,  just  as  soon  as  men  concede  things  in  that 
tone,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner  scornfully,  "we  don't 
care  about  having  any  rights  at  all ;  rather  prefer 
not  to  have  any." 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN   UNEXPECTED   ENCOUNTER. 

EVEN  when  Mrs.  Hernandez  thought  with  her 
on  certain  questions,  Eugenia  was  often  inclined 
to  repudiate  such  fellowship,  since  the  other  was 
sure  to  have  attained  such  results  after  starting 
from  different  premises  and  working  through  an 
opposite  line  of  conclusions.  Eugenia,  for  ex 
ample,  after  years  of  self-suppression,  of  sacrifice, 
of  a  sense  of  revolt  against  the  sufferings  of  others, 
which  she  could  never  have  experienced  for  her 
own  wrongs,  had  prayerfully  attained  the  conclu 
sive  belief  that  a  woman  must  at  times  be  a  law 
unto  herself,  a  conviction  which  Mrs.  Hernandez 
had  reached  by  a  single  bound  away  from  any 
duties  and  obligations  which  hindered  her  free 
play.  Eugenia  was  dissatisfied  with  the  condition 
of  things,  not  for  herself,  because  she  never 
thought  of  herself,  but  for  her  sex,  for  the  pure 
and  proud  who  suffered,  for  the  half  lost  who 
might  be  redeemed,  and  for  the  eleven  thousand 
modern  virgins  who  longed  to  set  forth  on  a 
crusade.  Mrs.  Hernandez  had  pondered  her  own 
situation,  coolly  and  critically,  contrasted  it  with 
that  of  any  man  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 


232       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

had  weighed  herself,  as  it  were,  against  him,  and 
decided  on  his  vulnerable  point.  Both  were  in 
accord  in  not  having  absolutely  defined  what  was 
needed  in  the  way  of  a  happy  solution  of  the 
problem  offered  to  the  modern  woman  ;  thus  there 
was  some  room  for  discussion. 

"  Women  can  never  be  anything  in  particular," 
Bella  observed  one  day,  shortly  after  the  meeting 
of  the  Fin-de-Siecle  Club,  "because  each  one  is 
always  thinking  about  some  man.  Either  she  is 
in  love  with  him  and  deadly  sentimental,  longing 
to  write  to  him,  to  see  him,  to  please  him,  to  cook 
his  meals,  and  carry  his  bag  like  a  squaw,  to  do 
him  good  and  reform  him,  to  get  money  out  of 
him,  or  else  she  hates  him  and  spends  all  her  time 
thinking  of  his  sins,  of  his  vices,  his  cruelty,  his 
selfishness,  his  brutality.*' 

"  1  deny  it,"  said  Eugenia  forcibly.  "  Look  at 
me  !  What  man  am  I  thinking  about?  " 

"  The  man  who  never  came,  —  the  man  you  long 
to  look  up  to  and  can't,  —  the  man  you  have 
dreamed  of  and  idealized  for  twenty  years,  and  who 
makes  you  hate  the  men  you  have  seen  because 
they  are  not  like  him." 

"  Never,"  cried  Eugenia,  enraged,  wounded  at 
her  tenderest  point,  "  did  I  hear  any  one,  man  or 
woman,  utter  such  abject  nonsense." 

Bella  laughed. 

"  I  simply  judge  other  women  by  myself,"  she 
observed.  "  I  am  constantly  thinking  now-a-days 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  233 

about  Ferdinand  Hartley.  Shall  I  let  it  go  on,  or 
shall  I  not  let  it  go  on  ?  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"I  —  love  —  him  !  "  repeated  Bella  with  scorn. 
"  I  hope  I  have  passed  through  that  phase,  —  I 
hope  I  am  no  longer  a  sentimental  girl.  I  am 
twenty-nine  years  old ;  I  know  what  moves  me  and 
I  know  what  bores  me.  I  know  what  is  worth  my 
while  and  I  know  what  is  not  worth  my  while.  I 
have  arrived." 

"  Perhaps  what  I  ought  to  have  asked,  is  whether 
you  believe  Mr.  Hartley  will  wash." 

"No,  I  do  not.  I'll  say  that  frankly.  But 
then  so  few  things  will  keep  their  original  color 
and  size  through  hard  usage.  There  is  a  terrible 
fading  and  shrinking.  He  is  good-looking ;  I  like 
his  manner,  I  like  the  way  he  meets  people,  the 
way  he  enters  a  room  and  takes  leave.  He  knows 
how  to  do  all  those  things  which  still  trouble  me." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  inquire  whether  you 
consider  him  to  be  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

"  A  man  may  be  in  love.  Deliver  me  from  a 
cynical  man.  Yes,  Ferdinand  is  a  little  in  love 
with  me,"  said  Bella  complacently.  "  I  can  make 
him,  if  I  choose,  furiously  in  love.  I  hate  demon 
strative  lovers  when  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for 
them." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  possible  he  may  be  after 
your  money  ?  " 

"  I  know  very  well  he   is  after  my  money.     I 


234       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

have  no  particular  objection  to  his  being  after  my 
money,  —  what  I  should  like  to  be  sure  of  is  that, 
in  marrying  him,  I  should  get  the  worth  of  my 
money."  She  suddenly  broke  off  with  an  im 
patient  gesture.  "  One  gets  the  worth  of  nothing 
in  this  world,"  she  said  with  a  note  of  bitter  feel 
ing  in  her  voice. 

Eugenia  was  well  habituated  to  these  sudden  fits 
of  depression  which  seemed  to  come  and  go  with 
out  logic  or  reason,  alternating  with  the  most  un 
reasonable  high  spirits. 

"  If  you  take  my  advice,"  she  began,  then  hesi 
tated. 

"  Well,  what  is  your  advice  ?  " 

"  You  will  marry  some  one.  I  do  not  consider 
Mr.  Hartley  clever  or  wise  or  especially  high- 
minded,  but  I  fancy  his  worst  faults  are  vanity  and 
love  of  ease  and  luxury.  He  seems  to  me  safer 
perhaps  from  his  very  limitations.  Married  to 
him,  your  social  career  might  be  assured,  and  I 
think  you  would  be  more  happy,  more  contented." 

"  Happier  !  more  contented  !  "  said  Bella.  "  I 
could  n't  be  happy,  —  I  could  n't  be  contented. 
There  is  a  push  in  me  away  from  the  possibility  of 
happiness  and  contentment.  I  need  movement ;  I 
need  some  excitement  to  satisfy  something  in  me 
that  is  like  an  aching  thirst." 

•"  You  think  about  yourself  too  much." 

"Don't  you  know  that  a  woman  is  herself, — 
that  she  can  be  nothing  but  herself  ?  You  talk  as 
if  I  could  make  myself  over !  " 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  235 

"  So  you  can,"  said  Eugenia  coolly.  "  Stop 
thinking  about  yourself,  even  for  one  day.  Go 
into  the  street,  any  street  in  this  city,  in  any  city, 
and  think  about  the  unhappy-looking  women  you 
meet ;  follow  them  home  and  find  out  something 
about  their  lives,  and  understanding  their  case  you 
will  get  a  new  idea  about  what  trouble  is,  and  you 
may  be  ready  to  reflect  upon  your  own  singular 
good  fortune." 

"  Do  you  suppose  then  that  I  have  never  suf 
fered?" 

"  You  have  not  suffered  enough  to  find  out  that 
you  must  submit,  —  that  you  must  accept  the 
decline  of  every  wish  just  as  you  accept  the  fact 
of  the  setting  of  the  sun.  That  is  the  lesson  of 
suffering  which  mortals  have  to  learn." 

"  But  —  when  I  suffer  I  long  to  hurt  some 
body,"  said  Bella.  She  spoke  carelessly.  "  It  is 
you  who  have  no  idea  of  what  suffering  means. 
It  teaches  one  fierceness,  it  teaches  one  cruelty,  it 
teaches  one  hatred.  But  you  know  nothing  of  that 
side  of  life.  You  are  an  odd  compound,  Eugenia, 
—  all  theory,  no  practice.  I  don't  suppose  you 
ever  in  all  your  life  had  an  offer  of  marriage." 

"  No,"  returned  Eugenia  with  some  grimness. 
"  I  belong,  I  suppose,  to  what  is  called  '  the  third 
sex.'  I  have  not  taken  up  fancy-work  as  an 
alternative  to  falling  in  love,  nor  falling  in  love  as 
an  alternative  to  fancy-work.  But  I  have  had  my 
share  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  life." 


230        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Bella  had  been  reclining  on  the  sofa,  but  now 
started  up  and  began  to  move  about  restlessly. 
4k  When  you  address  a  room  full  of  women,"  she 
now  said  abruptly,  "  you  do  not  tell  them  to  sub 
mit  to  suffering,  to  injustice,  to  learn  lessons  from 
failure.  You  tell  them  to  revolt." 

Eugenia's  brow  had  knitted,  and  she  rubbed  the 
furrows  with  her  hand.  "  Yes,  I  am  inconsistent," 
she  said.  "  It  is  only  when  I  am  worked  up,  when 
my  brain  is  heated  by  the  sight  of  the  unequally 
distributed  wealth,  the  unequally  distributed  happi 
ness,  the  unequally  distributed  misery  in  the  world, 
that  I  can  be  wholly  a  reformer,  —  that  I  long  to 
tear  down  and  build  up  anew." 

"  If  I  had  accepted  my  life,"  proceeded  Bella,  still 
thoughtful,  "  if  I  had  submitted  to  what  I  did  not 
like,  denied  myself  reasonable  ambitions,  and  tried 
to  satisfy  people,  I  should  not  be  here  to-day,  an 
independent,  rich  woman  ;  neither  would  you  be 
having  your  present  promising  career." 

"  Well,  who  knows  ?  "  said  Eugenia. 

"  But  with  me,"  Bella  went  on,  "  every  single 
effort  has  been  a  means  to  an  end.  I  have  taken 
old-fashioned  conventions  and  cut  them  to  ribbons  ; 
but  I  did  not  do  it  for  the  sake  of  my  sex,  I  did  it 
for  myself,  —  I  was  bound  to  have  a  life  of  my 
own,  a  career  of  my  own.  Not  that  when  I 
began  I  had  even  the  dimmest  presentiment  of  what 
was  in  store  for  me.  I  only  saw  a  little  way  ahead, 
but  I  saw  that  very  clearly,  and  anything  that 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  237 

hindered  me  —  I  trod  it  under  foot," —  she  stamped 
softly  on  the  rug.  "  If  I  had  an  impulse  I  did  not 
waste  it  in  small  change,  as  it  were.  I  acted  on  it 
on  the  moment ;  I  frittered  neither  time  nor  strength 
away  in  talk.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  in  that  way, 
Eugenia?  " 

If  Miss  Shepard  had  answered  as  she  felt,  she 
would  have  said  that  Mrs.  Hernandez's  face,  gesture, 
and  movement  gave  her  a  painful  sense  of  the  sav 
agery  of  the  woman.  What  she  said  was  :  — 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  posing  as  the  typical  modern 
woman." 

"Well,  why  not?"  said  Bella,  laughing.  "If 
I  do  not  lose  myself  in  the  cause  as  you  do,  it  is 
because  I  have  been  through  everything,  I  have 
tested  everything,  and  I  know  that  what  you  are  all 
striving  for  as  a  great  end  will  not  be  worth  having 
after  you  get  it." 

"  You  seem  to  predict  success  for  us." 

"  Oh,  yes,  success,  —  what  you  now  call  success. 
A  man  can  always  be  beaten  by  a  woman,  and  what 
one  woman  can  effect  against  one  man,  a  thousand 
women  can  effect  against  a  thousand  men.  But 
you  cannot  alter  the  facts  of  things.  Marriage  is 
the  only  career,  the  only  profession,  worth  a  woman's 
having,  —  and  that  brings  me  round  again  to  the 
question  whether  I  shall  marry  Ferdinand  Hart 
ley."  She  paused  before  a  mirror.  "  Sometimes," 
she  observed,  "  when  I  have  been  thinking  about 
myself  past,  present,  and  to  come,  I  am  frankly 
amazed  to  see  how  young  I  am  still." 


238      THE  STORY  OF  LAWK  EN  CE  GARTHE. 

Even  the  cold  Eugenia  looked  at  her  with  admi 
ration.  Her  eyes  sparkled, —  the  curve  of  her  lips 
was  full  of  disdain  and  mischief. 

44 1  'm  not  thirty  yet,"  she  said,  "  and  how  much 
has  happened  to  me  !  "  She  uttered  this  in  a  tone 
as  of  soliloquy,  then  laughed  outright  as  if  some 
thought  amused  her.  She  glanced  back  at  Eugenia. 
"  What  was  it  Mr.  Hartley  was  quoting  about  the 
desirable  existence, —  to  be  a  woman  until  thirty,  a 
soldier  till  fifty,  and  a  monk  the  rest  of  one's  life  ? 
You  observe  that  gives  a  woman  no  chance  after 
the  age  of  thirty." 

"  Somebody  else  said,  4  A  woman  is  adored  until 
she  is  thirty,  after  that  she  adores.' " 

Bella  repeated  this  twice  over  as  if  trying  to  test 
the  truth  of  it. 

"  Now  I  should  have  said,"  she  observed  pres 
ently,  "that  most  women  began  by  adoring  and 
later  found  out  that  it  was  more  profitable  to  be 
adored." 

It  sometimes  seemed  to  Eugenia  that  Bella's  un 
checked  sweep  of  thought  took  erratic  curves  towards 
the  wide  horizons  of  truth ;  then  again  there  was 
this  jar,  this  dissonance  with  her  own  belief.  But 
perhaps,  she  said  to  herself,  if  Bella's  frankness 
were  sometimes  a  little  brutal,  did  it  not  come  from 
a  resolution  to  utter  the  worst  that  was  in  her,  to 
disarm  judgment  by  giving  her  least  opinion  a 
stamp  and  an  edge  of  individuality  ?  These  con 
tradictions  in  her  yawned  wide  enough  to  admit  all 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  239 

sorts  of  free  play  of  contrasting  elements  of  char 
acter.  In  general,  she  liked  refinement,  and  to 
push  her  love  of  luxury  to  its  limit ;  but  then  she 
could  discard  good  taste  and  show*  a  hearty  contempt 
for  high  civilization.  Habitually  good-natured,  she 
could  put  on  roughness,  and  although  she  usually 
liked  to  be  generous  with  her  money  she  alternated 
between  a  meaningless  profusion  and  a  niggardly 
grip  of  her  purse  which  had  more  than  once  put 
Miss  Shepard  to  the  blush. 

By  this  time  Hartley  had  intrenched  himself  in 
the  position  of  Mrs.  Hernandez's  friend,  philosopher, 
and  guide,  and  he  had  besides  made  a  powerful 
auxiliary  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Barry,  and  had  pressed 
her  into  the  service.  Mrs.  Barry  was  a  bright, 
pretty  woman,  enamored  of  the  pleasantness  of  life, 
and,  although  almost  completely  wrapped  up  in  her 
husband  and  children,  was  still  ready  to  sacrifice 
herself  in  her  brother's  behalf  and  help  on  his  inter 
ests.  She  flattered  Bella  and  she  liked  Eugenia 
heartily.  In  return  Eugenia  considered  her  frivo 
lous,  and  Bella  studied  her  coolly  and  critically,  try 
ing  to  get  at  the  secret  of  a  certain  ease  and  natural 
nonchalance  that  she  possessed  in  common  with 
her  brother,  and  which  enabled  her  to 'find  the  com 
fortable  side  of  things. 

"  How  do  you  like  her  ?  "  Hartley  asked  his  sister 
after  she  had  met  Mrs.  Hernandez  twice. 

"  I  quite  admire  her,"  said  Mrs.  Barry  discreetly. 

"Keally?" 


240       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"Yes,  really.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  confess  that 
there  is  something  in  her  at  times  a  little  fierce, — • 
something  indefinably  different  from  other  people, — 
which  chills  affection." 

"  But  do  you  think  she  is  socially  acceptable,  — 
Is  she  presentable  ?  " 

"  As  Mrs.  Ferdinand  Hartley  ?  Yes ;  only,  if  she 
becomes  Mrs.  Ferdinand  Hartley,  I  advise  you  to 
look  out  for  yourself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  there  is  a  dangerous  side  to 
her." 

Hartley  delared  that  he  liked  this  piquancy,  this 
distinct  note  of  individuality.  What  he  had  wanted 
was  the  mere  conventional  verdict  of  a  woman  who 
had  a  quick  eye  for  the  desirable  or  undesirable 
.characteristics  of  a  member  of  her  sex.  He  did 
not  need  the  warning.  At  times  he  was  ready  to 
pique  himself  on  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  real 
Bella  Hernandez,  then  a  chance  word,  look,  or 
action  seem  to  put  a  chasm  between  them  which 
he  knew  not  how  to  bridge  over.  At  such  times  she 
seemed  to  him  a  being  of  sensations,  sympathies, 
experiences,  and  ambitions  utterly  alien  to  his  own, 
and  he  found*  himself  tormented  and  out  of  heart 
for  the  enterprise.  Then  when  her  mood  had 
passed,  his  repugnance  vanished  as  well,  and  he 
could  condone  the  action  or  expression  which  had 
displeased  him,  accepting  it  as  a  child's  mischie 
vous  freak,  or  perhaps  the  test  a  coquettish  woman 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  241 

appointed  to  try  his  affection.  Another  trait  in 
Bella  he  found  inconsistent  and  incomprehensible 
was  the  pushing  to  extremes  her  resolution  to  be 
chaperoned  at  all  times  and  all  seasons.  He  had 
actually,  so  far,  never  seen  her  alone  ;  Miss  Shep- 
ard  was  invariably  with  her  if  she  received  him; 
if  the  companion  happened  to  be  absent  she  declined 
to  receive  visitors.  Whether  Mrs.  Hernandez  was 
afraid  of  him  or  afraid  of  herself  ;  whether,  pene 
trating  his  motives,  she  thus  fenced  herself  with 
precautions ;  or  whether  she  desired  to  keep  him 
at  arm's  length,  testing  him  thoroughly  before  ad 
mitting  him  to  the  privileges  of  an  accepted  suitor, 
he  could  not  decide.  And  it  may  be  confessed  that 
until  some  little  time  had  passed,  he  had  been  very 
well  contented  to  be  held  in  check  by  the  presence 
of  Miss  Shepard,  who,  with  some  happy  dexterity, 
seemed  to  see  without  seeing,  and  hear  without  hear 
ing,  as  unconscious  as  the  Dresden  china  figures 
on  the  mantelpiece.  There  was  perhaps  an  added 
zest  in  thus  making  love,  stopping  short  just  when 
the  situation  became  dangerous,  pulling  one's  self 
up  on  the  brink.  Each  understood  the  situation, 
and  each  had  the  wit  and  the  audacity  to  play 
with  the  advantages  it  presented. 

Still,  Hartley  was  by  this  time  inclined  to  push 
his  advantages  to  the  utmost,  and  he  schemed  a 
little  for  a  private  interview.  He  liked  Eugenia, 
and  he  believed,  too,  that  she  was  an  ally  and  not 
an  enemy.  Yet  a  man  cannot  make  love  to  two 


242      TIIE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

women  at  once,  and  in  the  moment  that  he  speaks 
with  eloquence,  with  strong  persuasion,  and  to  the 
heart,  he  prefers  a  single  ear. 

One  evening  just  before  Lent,  Mrs.  Barry  had 
invited  her  brother  and  Mrs.  Hernandez  to  dine 
with  her  and  later  to  accompany  her  to  the  opera. 
Bella  had  at  first  declined,  saying  that  she  never 
went  out  without  Miss  Shepard,  and  that  Miss 
Shepard  was  not  only  not  invited  but  had  an 
engagement  which  would  keep  her  away  until 
eight  o'clock.  This  evasion  was  so  derided,  so 
ignored  by  Mrs.  Barry,  who  possessed  a  fair  share 
of  woman's  wit,  that  Bella  gave  way  almost  against 
her  will  and  found  herself,  at  seven  o'clock,  sitting 
down  at  Mrs.  Barry's  table,  and,  three  quarters  of 
an  hour  later,  on  her  way  to  the  opera-house. 
She  had  been  quiet  through  the  meal,  but  Mr. 
Barry,  his  wife,  and  Hartley  had  made  up  for  her 
silence  by  a  lively  dialogue,  easy,  intimate,  illus 
trated  by  little  incidents  recounted  in  a  lively  way 
and  set  off  with  piquant  descriptions.  The  mind 
they  were  addressing  was,  however,  of  a  different 
order  from  their  own.  Their  statement  of  a  case 
was  at  once  too  clear  and  not  clear  enough  ;  the 
arguments  they  advanced  were  suggested,  not  de 
fined  ;  they  permitted  too  much  to  go  without  say 
ing,  and  did  not  attempt  to  explain  obvious  truths 
to  suit  the  mind  of  their  hearer.  Thus  Bella, 
startled,  perplexed  at  their  saying  often  exactly  the 
opposite  of  what  they  thought,  their  affectation  of 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  243 

indifference  for  what  she  knew  they  liked,  their 
quick  vivid  descriptions  of  what  was  going  on  in  a 
world  which  she  neither  knew  by  experience  nor 
correctly  realized  in  her  imagination,  felt  herself 
eclipsed,  set  aside,  her  claims  almost  derided.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  Mrs.  Barry  was  talking  of 
nothing  but  the  honors  she  received ;  she  im 
agined  that  Hartley  was  endeavoring  to  show  her 
that  he  had  other  acquaintances  more  charming 
than  herself ;  the  suspicion  tormented  her  that 
they  more  than  once  wittily  alluded  to  events  in 
her  own  secret  history,  which  they  had  contrived 
to  find  out.  Then,  too,  she  was  vexed  with  herself 
for  being  dull  and  heavy,  devoid  of  charm,  show 
ing  at  every  stage  of  the  meal  some  lack  of 
knowledge,  and,  however  she  might  vaunt  her  own 
superior  beauty,  wealth,  elegance,  feeling  inferior 
to  Mrs.  Barry,  who  when  complimented  on  her  new 
gown  declared  that  she  had  made  it  herself  out  of 
two  old  ones,  and  that  no  dressmaker  had  even 
touched  it. 

In  fact,  living  easily  with  people,  entering  into 
their  tone,  accepting  what  they  say  at  its  just 
value,  and  expressing  one's  self  with  sincerity  and 
without  too  much  emphasis,  is  one  of  the  final 
results  of  culture,  and  Bella  had  not  attained  it. 
To  his  astonishment,  Hartley  soon  found  that  she 
was  not  only  out  of  spirits,  but  out  of  temper. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  contrived  to  say  to  her,  as  he 
was  conducting  her  to  the  carriage.  "  I  am  afraid 


244      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

we  bored  you.  When  Edna  and  I  are  togethei 
we  are  in  such  spirits." 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  she  said  with  a  sort  of  de 
fiance  in  her  tone,  "that  you  were  laughing  at 
me." 

"  Laughing  at  you !  "  said  Hartley  incredulously. 
"  When  all  that  Edna  longed  to  do  was  to  please 
you,  to  make  you  feel  that  you  were  among  friends  ! 
And  I  -  Bella,  do  you  know  me  so  little  as  not 
to  realize  that  I  only  wish  to  show  you  my  heart  ?  " 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  side.  Her  tone  had 
alarmed  him. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  I  feel  so  lonely ;  I 
iniss  Eugenia." 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  something  to  you,"  said 
Hartley  with  real  fervor.  "  I  had  hoped  you  were 
beginning  to  like  me  a  little." 

He  was  putting  her  into  the  carriage.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  she  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand, 
and  it  reassured  him  slightly,  but  he  did  not  again 
forget  his  role.  Sitting  opposite  her  in  the  car 
riage,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  face,  hardly 
speaking  except  in  monosyllables. 

Although  Bella's  predominant  sentiment  had 
been  anger,  an  anger  which  included  not  only  Mn 
and  Mrs.  Barry,  but  Hartley,  it  was  a  fictitious 
feeling,  and  came  not  so  much  from  a  dislike  of 
being  rivaled  and  surpassed  as  from  a  sort  of 
timidity,  a  sensation  of  being  cramped  in  this 
secondary  place  she  was  obliged  to  take. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  245 

"  Stay  near  me,"  she  said  to  Hartley  as  they 
entered  the  box. 

"  That  is  what  I  wish  to  do.  I  desire  nothing 
else,"  he  said. 

He  could  see  that  she  was  not  at  her  ease,  that 
she  looked  at  the  women  in  the  boxes  about  her 
with  curiosity,  yet  with  a  self-consciousness  which 
left  her  awkward  and  restless.  The  hum  of 
voices,  the  salutations,  the  easy  gliding  of  men 
from  box  to  box,  the  intimate  air  of  the  groups 
who  met  and  exchanged  a  word,  perhaps  made  her 
feel  as  if  she  had  invaded  a  world  in  which  she 
had  no  real  footing.  She  became  sensible  that 
lorgnettes  were  leveled  at  her. 

"  Do  you  observe  how  people  are  looking  at 
you  ?  "  Hartley  asked  her,  leaning  forward. 

"  Why  should  they  look  at  me  ?  "  she  asked 
uneasily. 

"  You  are  a  stranger,  or  comparatively  so. 
They  have  heard  of  you  and  are  curious  to  see 

you." 

"  I  wish  they  would  not.  I  do  not  feel  sure  of 
myself  to-night." 

"  You  are  in  superb  good  looks,  and  your  gown 
Is  magnificent." 

"  But  these  women  are  so  splendidly  dressed ! 
See  those  diamonds." 

"  No  handsomer  than  yours,  and  yours  help  to 
set  off  beauty  and  youth,  not  ugliness  and  decay." 

Under  the  influence  of  these  flatteries,  Bella's 


246      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

self-possession  revived  slightly.  She  began  to  be 
accustomed  to  the  brilliance,  the  sparkle,  the 
subdued  excitement  and  sense  of  expectation. 
The  first  notes  of  the  overture  created  a  diversion, 
and  she  could  give  her  eyes  to  the  stage.  The 
opera  was  Wagner's  Walkiire,  and  for  a  time  she 
seemed,  much  to  Hartley's  relief,  to  be  interested 
in  the  thickly  gathering  crowd  of  impressions  of 
the  story.  She  kept  her  eyes  on  the  performers 
until  the  curtain  fell,  then  plied  Hartley,  who 
leaned  forward,  eager  for  her  least  word,  with 
questions  concerning  the  plot.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  have  described  his 
evening  as  one  full  of  enjoyment ;  still  at  every 
sign  of  complacency  on  her  part  he  experienced  an 
indescribable  sense  of  joyful  relief.  He  had 
become  accustomed  to  the  thought  that  he  could 
marry  Bella  if  he  wished,  and  he  had  suddenly 
discovered,  now  that  she  frowned  for  a  moment, 
that  he  desired  it  with  all  his  heart  and  soul,  — 
that  his  life  had  narrowed  down  to  that  one  single 
ambition.  Not  that  he  was  in  love,  not  that  he 
was  under  any  illusions  as  to  the  sort  of  life  in 
store  for  him  if  he  won  her ;  living  for  a  round  of 
occupations,  dissipations,  and  amusements  which 
brought  with  them,  not  stimulus,  but  a  sense  of 
weariness,  skepticism,  uselessness  ;  of  luxury  for 
the  sake  of  luxury,  of  self-indulgence  for  the  sake 
of  self-indulgence ;  never  really  belonging  to  that 
more  exclusive  world  which  he  might  deride  if  he 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  247 

were  in  it,  but  when  barred  out  by  any  cause  mak 
ing  a  fetish  of  it. 

This  background  of  his  thoughts  did  not  dis 
turb  his  clear  resolution  to  say  something  to 
Bella,  before  he  slept  that  night,  which  should  fix 
himself  in  her  mind  and  heart  and  decide  his 
future.  How  to  say  it,  whether  with  overmastering 
passion,  whether  with  coolness  and  courage,  giving 
a  humorous  touch  to  the  situation,  or  whether  to 
trust  his  declaration  to  the  chapter  of  chances  and 
let  it  utter  itself,  he  was  not  yet  quite  sure. 

He  was  reflecting  that  he  still  had  the  whole 
last  act  of  the  opera  in  which  to  make  up  his  mind, 
when  he  was  all  at  once  startled  by  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez'  saying  to  him  in  a  whisper :  — 

"  I  want  to  go  home." 

"  To  go  home  ?  "    he  repeated.     "  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  Get  me  a  carriage  and  send  me 
home,"  said  Bella  restlessly.  "  I  am  tired  of  it." 
The  act  was  finishing,  —  there  was  a  little  stir  all 
over  the  house,  and  she,  with  others,  rose  to  her 
feet. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  a  turn  in  the  lobby  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Barry. 

"No,  I  am  going  home,"  said  Bella.  "Your 
brother  will  find  a  carriage  and  put  me  in  it. 
Then  he  can  come  back  to  you." 

Mrs.  Barry  looked  archly  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said.  "  The  last  act  is 
very  beautiful.  But  after  all,  it  is  long,  and  I  can 
see,  Mrs.  Hernandez,  you  look  tired." 


248      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTITE. 

"  I  have  a  headache,  —  the  lights  tire  me." 

"  Ferdy  will  take  good  care  of  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Barry.  "  He  need  not  come  back.  Edward  is 
here  somewhere,  and  he  will  look  after  me." 

She  gave  a  knowing  little  nod  as  she  met  her 
brother's  eyes,  and  he  smiled.  Although  he  had 
been  startled  by  his  companion's  sudden  whim, 
nothing  could  have  suited  him  better  than  the  way 
things  had  fallen  out.  He  found  Bella's  outside 
garment,  wrapped  it  about  her  with  an  air  of 
devout  homage,  and  offered  his  arm.  The  stair 
ways  were  full  of  people,  and  twenty  men  took 
occasion  to  salute  him  with  a  smiling  emjwcssement. 
His  companion  was  frankly  stared  at  by  some  of 
the  women  who  had  come  out  for  a  breath  of  air. 
Her  cloak  of  white  moire  and  angora,  and  the 
scarf  of  rich  lace  around  her  head,  became  her. 
She  walked  with  grace,  seeming  quite  indifferent 
to  the  groups  ;  Hartley  could  see  that  she  roused 
curiosity  and  admiration. 

"  Six  months,  a  year  hence,"  he  whispered, 
"  you  will  be  the  centre  of  attraction  in  a  place 
like  this.  You  are  making  a  sensation." 

"  I  only  wish  to  get  away,"  she  replied. 

They  paused  in  the  vestibule. 

"  You  did  not  enjoy  the  opera." 

"No.  I  am  sorry  to  rob  you  of  the  last  act 
You  can  get  me  a  carriage  and  go  back  to  your 
sister." 

He  smiled  and  slightly  pressed  the  hand  on  his 
arm  against  his  side. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  249 

"  The  heat  and  lights  were  too  much  for  you,"  he 
said. 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  hated  it,  —  I 
loathed  it,"  she  said  fervently,  although  in  a  voice 
little  above  a  whisper. 

"  So  did  I." 

"  No,  not  as  I  did.  You  did  not  feel,  like  me,  as 
if  the  people  belonged  to  one  world  and  I  to 
another,  —  as  if  they  were  crowding  me  out," 

"  You  were  fanciful.  They  are  all  ready  to  bow 
down  and  worship  you.  There  is  nobody  who  will 
not  admire  you.  They  are  actually  very  good- 
natured,  most  of  them  a  little  dull  and  heavy,  yet 
with  a  longing  to  seem  to  get  more  out  of  their 
life  than  their  neighbors,  although  each  is  thinking 
about  himself  or  herself :  of  his  tight  boots  that 
pinch  him,  of  the  torn  lace  on  her  gown,  —  can  it  be 
mended  ?  —  or  that  another  toilette  although  sim 
pler  has  more  chic  than  her  own,  or  that  the  man 
she  longs  to  monopolize  is  with  the  especial  group 
of  people  she  hates.  They  are  all  occupied  with 
themselves ;  they  think  no  more  of  you  and  me 
than  of  the  painted  figures  in  the  frescoes." 

"  But  they  stared  so,  —  I  knew  not  which  way  to 
look." 

"  I  can  forgive  them  for  looking  at  you.  1 
looked." 

"  I  saw  one  woman,  —  I  know  who  she  is,  —  a 
Mrs.  Garner,  smile  as  she  glanced  at  us  both." 

"  She  is  always  smiling.     It  becomes  her." 


250      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GABTHK 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  ghost  ? "  inquired  Bella 
with  a  little  shiver. 

"  Nobody  ever  sees  ghosts  unless  he  believes  in 
them,  and  I  only  believe  in  the  world  of  flesh  and 
blood,"  said  Hartley  soothingly.  "  You  are  a  little 
nervous  to-night.  Forget  it  all." 

Gradually,  under  the  influence  of  his  glance,  his 
touch,  his  good-humor,  the  imperious  self-willed 
personality  of  the  woman  beside  him  began  to  be 
melted.  She  leaned  towards  him  confidingly. 
They  were  waiting  for  their  carriage,  expecting 
each  moment  to  hear  the  number  called.  The 
wind  blew  cruelly  where  they  stood,  near  the  open 
door  of  the  lobby.  Suddenly  she  turned  and  clung 
to  him,  hiding  her  face  against  his  shoulder,  as  a 
gust  swept  across  them. 

"  You  will  be  frozen,"  said  Hartley.  "  I  will  go 
and  see  what  causes  this  delay." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  she  returned.  "  Do  not  leave 
me." 

He  could  feel  that  she  was  trembling  from  head 
to  foot.  Just  at  that  instant  a  familiar  fijnire 

O 

passed  them. 

"  Lawrence,"  said  Hartley,  u  how  are  you  ? 
Could  you  spare  a  moment  to  look  after  my  car 
riage  ?  Number  one  hundred  and  forty-five." 

It  was  called  while  he  was  speaking. 

"  Bitterly  cold,"  said  Garthe,  glancing  towards 
the  muffled  figure  beside  Hartley.  "  It  feels  like 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER,  251 

"  I  hope  not.  It  is  an  abominable  winter.  How 
are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  'm  well." 

Garthe  glanced  again  at  the  woman  who  had  so 
ooncealed  her  face  that  he  could  gain  no  impres 
sion  of  her  identity,  then  raised  his  hat  and  re- 
entered  the  opera-house. 

It  seemed  to  Hartley,  as  he  led  Bella  down  the 
steps,  that  she  tottered.  The  man  holding  the  door 
open  had  to  help  her  into  the  carriage,  and  she 
sank  down  shapelessly  in  the  corner. 

"You  are  frozen,"  said  Hartley. 

"Yes,  frozen  stiff,"  she  answered  with  a  little 
laugh.  He  could  hear  her  teeth  chatter. 

There  was  an  appeal  in  her  whole  manner,  if  not 
to  his  tenderness,  at  least  to  his  sympathy.  He 
folded  her  wraps  about  her  more  closely  ;  his  arm 
encircled  her,  as  he  took  her  hands  and  warmed 
them  within  his  own.  Then,  conscious  of  not  meet 
ing  a  rebuff,  although  he  was  equally  conscious 
that  she  held  out  no  invitation,  and  had  simply 
permitted  his  show  of  affectionate  concern,  he  ven 
tured,  very  gently,  to  draw  her  closer  to  him ;  he 
pressed  her  head  against  his  shoulder. 

She  yielded  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then  asked, 
with  a  half  laugh  :  — 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  me  ?  " 

"  Surely  you  do  not  doubt  it,  Bella." 

"  I  doubt  most  things  to-night." 

"  Then  all  the  more  you  might  believe  in  me." 


252      T1IE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  Better  save  your  love-making  for  a  more  au 
spicious  time.  Can't  you  see  that  I  am  in  a  rage  ?  " 

"  With  me  ?  "  asked  Hartley,  completely  stag- 
gered  by  her  tone  and  manner,  by  such  jarring 
dissonance  with  his  own  mood. 

"  No,  not  with  you,  except  that  you  belong  to  the 
human  race." 

The  carriage  stopped.  They  had  reached  the 
Percy.  The  door  was  opened,  and  in  another  mo 
ment  they  were  inside  the  warmed  and  lighted  ves 
tibule.  He  looked  at  her  in  doubt,  not  certain 
whether  he  ought  to  take  leave,  resigning  his 
coveted  opportunity  without  having  pressed  it  to  a 
conclusion,  or  to  be  tenacious  of  his  privileges,  as 
a  man  should. 

She  saw  that  he  paused  in  doubt. 

"  Oh !  do  not  go  yet,"  she  said  indifferently. 
"  I  suppose  Eugenia  will  be  waiting  for  us." 

Her  tone  vexed  him ;  her  look  cut  his  vanity  to 
the  quick  ;  it  robbed  him  of  all  dignity.  Still,  lie 
followed  her  obediently  up  the  broad  shallow  stairs, 
preceded  by  a  servant  who  opened  the  door  and 
turned  up  the  lights  in  the  empty  room,  and  made 
the  fire  blaze  more  brightly.  By  the  time  the  at 
tendant  had  acquitted  himself  of  these  duties,  Bella 
had  in  a  measure  conquered  her  irritation,  or 
perhaps,  finding  herself  among  her  familiar  sur 
roundings,  she  had  regained  her  sense  of  her  own 
identity  ;  had  lost  her  feeling  of  diminished  privi 
lege. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  253 

She  sat  down  on  her  favorite  sofa,  flung  back 
her  ermine-lined  mantle  with  its  edge  of  long  silky 
angora  fur,  took  off  the  lace  scarf  from  her  hair, 
and  emerged  from  this  chrysalis,  smiling.  A  close 
observer  would  have  seen,  nevertheless,  that  her 
lower  lip  still  trembled. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  must  think  of  me,"  she 
said. 

"  That  you  are  the  most  beautiful  of  women,  — 
that  is  what  I  think,"  returned  Hartley,  who  had 
planted  himself  before  her.  "  If  you  were  not  at 
times  a  trifle  incomprehensible,  you  would  not,  I 
suppose,  be  a  woman,  but  an  angel." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  no  angel,"  said  Bella.  "  You  may  as 
well  understand  that.  I  do  not  even  want  to  be 
an  angel."  She  shivered  as  she  spoke,  or  Hartley 
might  have  suggested  that  there  are  two  kinds 
of  angels.  But  she  spoke  in  an  odd  voice ;  some 
thing  in  her  look  and  manner  appealed  to  him 
afresh.  It  almost  suggested  an  overcharged  heart 
yearning  to  pour  itself  out  in  intimate  confidence. 

He  took  her  hand. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  has  happened  to 
disturb  you  ?  "  he  said  earnestly.  "  If  any  man  in 
the  world  can  be  your  friend,  I  am  that  man.  You 
might  better  trust  me  entirely  than  torture  me  by 
half  allusions." 

"  You  say  you  are  my  friend  ? "  she  said  with 
her  mocking,  tantalizing  smile. 

"  I  am  your  devoted  friend." 


254      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  What  would  you  do  for  me  ?  " 

"  Anything  that  man  can  do." 

"That  is  a  large  promise,"  she  said,  with  the 
same  mocking,  tantalizing  manner.  "  I  might  put 
your  friendship  to  some  terrible  test." 

"  You  will  find  me  faithful,"  said  Hartley,  going 
over  in  his  mind  all  her  singularities  of  behavior 
and  wondering  to  what  crimes  he  was  pledging 
himself.  Perhaps  she  detected  this  arriere-pensee, 
for  she  laughed. 

"  I  don't  ask  anything  tragical,"  she  said  lightly. 
"  I  should  simply  like  to  feel  that  a  man  loved  me 
enough  to  be  true  to  me  through  evil  report  and 
good  report,  —  tome;  not  the  rich  Mrs.  Hernandez, 
but  Bella  Brown,  the  real  woman.  But  I  suppose 
it  is  more  than  I  have  a  right  to  ask." 

He  bent  his  full  gaze  upon  her.  "  No,"  he  said 
with  emphasis. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  were  los 
ing  my  nerve.  For  one  thing,  I  have  grown  to 
depend  upon  Eugenia.  I  can't  live  alone.  I  have 
a  horror  of  being  alone.  At  the  opera-house  it 
seemed  to  me  I  was  a  target ;  as  if  from  all  sides 
came  glances,  whispers,  questions,  comments." 
She  shivered  as  she  spoke. 

He  was  still  holding  her  hand.  He  came  closer, 
but  with  a  sudden  coquettish  gesture  she  released 
herself  from  his  clasp,  and  moved  to  the  end  of  the 
sofa. 

"  Tell  me  something,"  she  said,  with  imperious- 
ness. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  255 

"  Anything." 

"  Who  was  the  man  to  whom  you  spoke  on  the 
steps  of  the  opera-house  ?  " 

"  Lawrence  Garthe,  a  cousin  of  mine." 

"  A  cousin  of  yours  ?     How  very  odd !  " 

Her  face  had  changed.  Her  eyes  were  intensely 
bright,  and  on  each  cheek  was  a  spot  of  fiery  color. 

"  It  is  not  a  close  relationship.  His  father  and 
my  father  were  cousins,  but  we  were  thrown  to 
gether  as  children,  and  have  always  known  each 
other  well.  But  why  is  it  odd  ?  Are  you  ac 
quainted  with  him?" 

"  I  have  seen  him,  and  I  have  heard  a  great  deal 
about  him,"  said  Bella.  "  How  does  he  happen  to 
be  here  in  New  York?" 

"  He  lives  here." 

"  Lives  here  in  New  York  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in 
credulously. 

Hartley  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment.  She 
seemed  laboring  under  some  intense  feeling ;  her 
face  was  full  of  color  and  animation;  she  moved 
her  hands,  her  arms,  her  feet,  her  whole  figure,  and 
in  her  look,  attitude,  and  gestures,  there  was  the  sug 
gestion  of  something  cruel,  something  menacing. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  know  about  Garthe  ?  "  he 
exclaimed,  recalling  his  conversation  with  his 
cousin  and  his  effort  to  elicit  some  information  re 
garding  Mrs.  Hernandez.  His  mind  reverted  to 
Lawrence's  feeling  of  dislike  and  antagonism 
towards  the  late  Aurelio,  but  anything  he  could 


250      THE   STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

conjecture  concerning  the  relations  of  the  two  men 
seemed  inadequate  to  account  for  Bella's  excite 
ment. 

However,  as  Hartley  bent  his  deep,  penetrating 
look  upon  her  she  became  conscious  that  she  was 
betraying  too  much  and  rousing  his  curiosity,  and 
gave  a  little  shrug.  "  What  should  I  know  about 
him,  except  that  he  used  to  be  considered  a  wonder 
ful  expert  in  mineralogy,"  she  said,  laughing. 
"  Men  used  to  carry  bits  of  ore  and  gravel  to  him, 
trembling  in  their  boots,  for  he  could  tell  them 
whether  they  had  got  hold  of  a  big  bonanza  or  a 
beggarly  claim  that  wouldn't  pay  for  the  panning 
out.  He  could  run  up  mining  stocks  to  three  hun 
dred  in  a  day  simply  by  raising  his  finger,  or  knock 
the  bottom  out  of  them  by  shaking  his  head,  so 
that  they  fell  below  zero,  as  if  a  blizzard  had  come 
down  from  Manitoba." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hartley  thoughtfully.  "  I  know  he 
is  a  first-class  scientific  man." 

"Oh,  yes,  a  first-class  scientific  man,  but  too 
good  for  this  world,"  she  said  in  an  ironic  tone. 

"  Was  he  married  when  you  knew  him  ?  " 

"Married?"  she  repeated  as  if  incredulous. 
"  Did  he  ever  condescend  to  marry  a  mortal 
woman  ?  " 

"  He  married  shortly  after  he  went  West.  We 
were  taken  by  surprise,  —  he  seemed  the  last  man 
I  knew  to  marry  in  such  haste." 

"  Did  he  marry  in  haste  to  repent  at  leisure?" 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  257 

"  His  wife  died  in  a  year  or  two." 

"  Died  ?  Did  she  die,  poor  thing  ?  "  said  Bella  in 
a  tone  of  deep  commiseration.  "  And  married  to  a 
man  like  Lawrence  Garthe  ?  What  a  pity !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  you  do  not  seem  to  fancy  my  cousin 
Lawrence." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  she  asked  dryly. 

"  I  like  him  particularly.  I  never  had  a  brother, 
and  he  has  been  more  like  a  brother  to  me  than 
any  man  alive.  As  little  fellows  we  used  to  visit 
together  at  my  grandmother's  in  the  summer,  and 
that  sort  of  intimacy  sticks  to  one.  After  one  is 
grown  up  it  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  get  up 
friendship, — one  has  not  the  requisite  impetus;  one 
has  not  the  same  amount  of  unexpended  feeling." 
Hartley  spoke  with  animation ;  her  half -expressed 
scorn  of  Garthe  had  roused  all  his  combativeness. 
"When  I  am  with  Lawrence,"  he  went  on,  "I 
always  wish  I  were  that  sort  of  man ;  then  when  I 
come  away,  I  think  with  some  relief  that  after  all 
it  is  not  in  me  to  be  that  sort  of  man." 

"  But  why  should  you,  of  all  men,  envy  him  ?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  He  is  so  honest,  so  thorough ;  he  finds  so  many 
things  interesting  outside  of  himself  and  his  own 
selfish  ambitions.  He  loves  hard  work,  —  shirks 
nothing  ;  the  fiercer  the  tug  the  more  faithful  he  is, 
when  he  has  an  object  in  view." 

She  curled  her  lip. 

"  It  sounds  like  a  description  of  a  safe  old  slow 
coach  "  — 


258      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  If  he  is  slow,  he  is  sure,"  said  Hartley,  coerced 
by  masculine  instinct,  besides  family  affection,  to 
stand  by  a  man  towards  whom  she  exhibited  an 
antagonism,  even  a  disdain,  which  vexed  him.  "  He 
has  been,  in  his  own  line,  a  very  successful  man, 
and  without  ever  having  made  money  his  prime 
object,  he  is  almost  rich." 

"  liich !  "  she  exclaimed  incredulously.  "  Rich," 
she  repeated  scornfully.  "  I  should  like  to  hear 
what  you  call  rich." 

"  Well,  perhaps  by  your  estimate  of  things  he  is 
not  rich,  —  he  is  certainly  not  a  millionaire." 

"  But  fairly  well  off,  —  comfortable  ?  " 

"  Fairly  well  off  ;  comfortable." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  again  he  had 
the  impression  of  cruel  forces  in  reserve,  as  if  she 
were  gathering  them  for  a  spring.  But  with  her 
elastic  change  of  mood  she  rallied,  and  laughed, 
although  there  was  no  laughter  in  her  eyes. 

"  He  lost  his  wife,  you  say,"  she  said  with  that 
ironical  face. 

"  Years  ago." 

"  He  has  not  married  again  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Not  yet ;  you  speak  as  if  he  were  likely  to 
marry  soon." 

Hartley  laughed  low.     "  I  am  not  in  his  secrets/' 

44  But  you  meant  something  by  that  *  Not  yet/ 

"  I  suspect  that  he  is  in  love.  I  have  no  right 
to  say  it,  but  as  I  happen  to  have  introduced  him 
to  a  very  charming  friend  of  mine  " 


AN    UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  259 

"You  introduced  him  to  a  charming  friend  of 
yours  ?  "  she  repeated  eagerly.  "  And  he  has  fallen 
in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  Garthe  is  not  the  man  to  discuss  his  private 
affairs.  He  has  hardly  ever  spoken  about  his  first 
wife  to  me." 

"His  first  wife ?  Do  men  ever  enjoy  talking 
about  their  early  mistakes  ?  It  is  the  second  wife 
who  is  interesting.  Tell  me  about  her." 

Impelled  by  his  love  of  holding  his  own,  yet 
withheld  by  the  restlessness  and  fierceness  in  Bella, 
which  suggested  the  chafing  of  a  leopardess,  he 
tried  to  content  her  with  some  vague  general  outlines 
of  the  history  of  Garthe 's  acquaintance  with  the 
Garners.  But  with  a  child's  obstinate  pertinacity 
she  pressed  question  upon  question  until  she  had 
elicited  not  only  all  that  Hartley  could  veraciously 
impart,  but  a  great  deal  that,  with  his  loose  hold 
upon  facts,  he  permitted  to  escape  him,  yet  could 
not  vouch  for. 

"Mrs.  Garner!  The  one  who  looked  at  me 
to-night.  How  long  since  her  husband  died  ?  " 

"  More  than  four  years." 

"  She  looks  very  young." 

"  She  is  twenty-eight." 

"  Twenty-eight,  and  looks  eighteen  !  I  should  like 
to  know  her  secret.  I  wish  you  could  tell  me  what 
she  uses  for  her  complexion." 

"  Both  you  and  Mrs.  Garner  may  dispense  with 
fictitious  aids  to  beauty  for  some  thirty  years  to 


200      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  G  ART  HE. 

"  And  he  is  in  love  with  her  !     But  no  wonder." 

"  He  has  not  told  me  he  is  in  love  with  her,  but 
he  goes  there  constantly.  And  he  ought  to  marry. 
He  owes  it  to  his  child  to  marry." 

"  lie  has  a  child,  then  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low,  clear 
voice. 

"  A  fine  little  lad  of  seven  or  so.  Lawrence 
worships  him." 

"  Rich,  well  placed  in  the  world,  a  fine  boy  he  is 
devoted  to,  a  beautiful  second  wife  in  store  for  him  ! 
No  wonder  you  call  him  a  successful  man  !  The 
universal  human  plague  of  defeat  and  failure  evi 
dently  does  not  touch  him." 

Hartley  put  on  an  air  of  impassiveness. 

"  I  'in  sorry  you  dislike  my  cousin  Lawrence,"  he 
said. 

"  Dislike  him  ?  "  she  repeated,  raising  her  eyes 
to  his  and  smiling.  "  Do  you  want  me  to  like 
him  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  fall  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

He  was  glad  of  this  appeal  to  his  jealousy  ;  he 
had  felt  the  double  sting  of  her  injustice  to  Garthe 
and  of  her  display  of  more  passionate  feeling  in  her 
scorn  and  aversion  than  he,  Hartley,  had  been  able 
to  inspire  in  the  way  of  love  for  himself.  Thus  he 
was,  to  a  degree,  pacified  by  her  tone  and  look. 

"  They  say,"  he  remarked  easily,  "  that  a  man 
only  hates  the  woman  he  has  once  loved  overmuch, 
and  that  a  woman  only  hates  the  man  who  has  not 
loved  her." 

"  I  hate  nobody,"  she  said,  with  a  little  yawn 
behind  her  hand. 


AN    UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.  261 

Hartley,  who  had  for  some  time  been  leaning  on 
the  back  of  the  armchair  in  front  of  the  sofa, 
started  up. 

"  I  had  forgotten  it  was  so  late,"  he  said.  "  I 
must  go.  I  am  glad  to  carry  away  your  confession 
that  you  hate  nobody.  Still,  negations  are  not 
enough  for  me.  I  want  you  to  confess  that  you 
love  somebody !  " 

He  did  not,  however,  dally  with  the  possibilities 
of  his  suggestion.  She,  too,  had  risen  ;  he  again 
took  her  hand,  stooped,  laid  his  lips  to  it,  gave  her 
a  smiling  glance,  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XL 
BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE. 

LEFT  alone,  Bella  stood  for  a  few  moments  with 
out  moving  from  her  place,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
door  which  had  closed  after  Hartley,  her  features 
changing  gradually  from  their  look  of  coquetry  and 
animation  to  one  of  deep  reverie. 

"  I  thought,"  she  murmured  after  a  time,  "  that 
he  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  world."  An  au 
dible  exclamation  escaped  her  and  she  shuddered. 
"  I  might  have  met  him  anywhere,  at  any  time,  in 
the  street,  in  a  roomful  of  people  !  " 

She  shrank  anew  with  the  same  impulse  she  had 
experienced  at  the  opera-house,  longing  to  hide  her 
self,  to  flee  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  do  anything  at 
any  price,  at  any  risk,  at  any  suffering,  to  escape  the 
humiliation  of  meeting  the  eyes  of  that  man.  She 
knew  now  that  it  had  actually  been  he  whose  side 
face  she  had  seen  as  he  spoke  to  Mrs.  Garner. 
All  the  vague  restlessness,  the  foolish  terrors,  the 
intense  self-consciousness  she  had  not  been  able  to 
combat,  but  which  had  gathered  into  an  overmas 
tering  pulsation  of  dread,  were  now  explained.  She 
wondered  now  that  she  had  not  altogether  betrayed 
herself  ;  that  she  had  been  able  to  keep  herself  from 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  263 

screaming;  for  nothing  less  could  have  given  vent 
to  her  rage,  her  despair,  her  self-disgust,  that  she, 
she  alone,  —  in  all  that  great  shining  tier,  among 
those  clear-faced,  innocent-eyed,  soft-voiced  women, 
whose  brows  seemed  never  to  have  gathered  into  a 
frown  over  a  moment's  perplexity, —  missed  the 
pleasure  of  life ;  that  in  spite  of  all  her  brilliance 
and  success,  she  alone  was  ill  at  ease. 

She  forced  herself  to  renew  all  this  crowd  of 
impressions,  to  disentangle  from  them  what  was 
mere  fright  and  nervousness,  and  look  at  the  actual 
situation.  This  appeal  to  cool  reason  gradually 
restored  her  courage,  and  she  experienced  presently 
a  revulsion  of  feeling  as  strong  in  its  way  as  her 
first  hysterical  dread. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  aloud  then,  "  if  he  saw  me." 
She  pondered  this  question  a  moment,  then  an 
swered  herself  with  decision,  "  No,  he  could  not 
have  seen  me."  Next  she  asked  herself,  "  Would 
he  have  known  me  ?  " 

Half  a  dozen  gas  jets  were  turned  up  half  way  ; 
she  set  them  all  blazing  at  their  brightest,  and  mov 
ing  forward  stood  looking  at  herself  in  the  great 
mirror  over  the  fireplace,  all  the  light  concentrated 
upon  her  face  and  figure. 

"My  hair  was  yellow  in  those  days,"  she  said 
thoughtfully.  "  It  did  not  begin  to  turn  dark  until 
I  was  married  to  Algernon."  She  regarded  her 
image,  coquetry  and  love  of  domination  awakening. 
"  I  wonder,"  she  said  with  a  little  triumphant  laugh, 


264      THE  STORY   OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  what  he  would  think  of  me  now."  The  rich  cloak, 
still  trailing  from  her  shoulders,  dropped  to  the 
floor,  and  her  figure  stood  revealed  in  its  evening 
gown  of  white  uncut  velvet  trimmed  with  mara 
bou.  "  I  weighed  one  hundred  and  eight  in  those 
days,"  she  reflected,  "  now  I  weigh  a  hundred  and 
thirty-eight." 

She  turned  from  side  to  side  to  show  to  her  own 
admiring  eye  the  supple  curves  of  her  waist,  the 
round  whiteness  of  her  neck  and  arms,  the  rosy 
oval  of  her  cheek.  Yet  even  while  she  gazed  criti 
cally  at  the  image  thus  presented,  saying  to  herself 
complacently  that  she  was  to  all  appearance  as 
youthful  as  ever,  beyond  a  doubt  handsomer  than 
ever  in  her  life,  to  say  nothing  of  being  dressed  to 
perfection,  some  recollection  or  painful  thought 
smote  her  afresh  and  she  stamped  her  foot,  her 
brow  growing  black  and  her  eyes  hard. 

"  I  look  like  one  of  the  Furies,"  she  said,  coolly 
studying  her  change  of  features  in  the  glass.  "  My 
mother's  face  comes  out  when  I  get  in  a  rage. 
When  I  am  old  and  ugly  I  shall  look  like  her." 
She  smiled  again. 

But  the  stamp  of  her  foot,  even  though  the  thud 
had  been  muffled  by  the  thick  carpet,  had  roused 
some  one.  There  came  a  tap  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  it?  "  cried  Bella  as  if  sharply  startled. 
"Oh,  is  it  you,  Eugenia?  I  took  it  for  granted 
you  were  in  bed." 

"  I  lay  down  on  my  lounge.     I  was  very  tired 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  265 

I  heard  you  come  in  with  Mr.  Hartley,  but  I  must 
have  fallen  asleep,  for  I  did  not  know  that  he  had 
gone.  It  was  so  late,  and  hearing  only  your  voice 
occasionally  and  then  a  sound  as  of  something  fall 
ing,  I  thought  it  best  to  knock  and  inquire." 

And  Eugenia,  holding  her  hand  before  her  eyes 
to  keep  off  the  dazzle  of  the  lights,  advanced  a  few 
steps,  fearfully  and  wonderfully  clad  in  a  gray 
dressing-gown,  and  stared  at  Mrs.  Hernandez  with 
curiosity. 

"  I  was  in  a  rage,"  said  Bella  flippantly,  "  and  I 
talked  to  myself  and  stamped  about  the  room. 
Had  I  felt  sure  you  were  awake,  I  should  have  gone 
in  to  you." 

"  In  a  rage  ? "  repeated  Eugenia  blankly. 
"With  whom?" 

"  Not  with  you.  In  fact  it  was  not  exactly  being 
in  a  rage.  Two  sensations  rushed  together  at  once 
and  made  a  clap  of  thunder,  I  suppose.  Something 
startled  me  to-night.  In  all  my  life  I  was  never  so 
frightened  as  I  was  for  a  few  minutes.  A  singular 
event  has  befallen  me." 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  Mr.  Hartley  ?  " 

"  Engaged  to  Mr.  Hartley  ?     No." 

"  Have  you  refused  him  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no.  How  romantic  you  are !  He 
seemed  also  in  rather  a  romantic  frame  of  mind, 
but  I  was  not  responsive,  and  he  drew  back.  I  was 
not  in  a  mood  to  pretend.  I  was  completely  taken 
possession  of  by  very  different  ideas.  The  future 


206      THE  STORl    OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

did  not  exist  for  me,  —  I  did  not  even  think  of  the 
present.  It  was  the  past,  the  past,  what  novels 
call  the  inexorable  past,  that  swallowed  up  all  my 
thoughts." 

Something  in  her  look  and  tone,  excited  and 
rather  reckless,  startled  Miss  Shepard.  She  picked 
up  the  cloak  which  Bella  was  treading  under  foot, 
and,  shaking  out  the  fur,  laid  it  across  the  arm  of 
the  sofa. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  has  happened," 
she  said  in  a  low,  anxious  voice. 

44 1  have  seen  a  ghost,  —  a  ghost  out  of  my  old 
life.  Actually,  I  did  not  suppose  I  was  such  a  crea 
ture  of  nerves,  presentiments,  terrors.  For  years 
this  thing  has  seemed  to  me  like  something  happen 
ing  to  another  person.  If  some  suggestion  of  it 
did  by  chance  present  itself  vividly,  I  would  ex 
claim,  *  Thank  heaven,  I  am  through  that  part  of  my 
life  ;  it  is  dead  and  buried.'  But  the  moment  I  saw 
him,  I  found  I  had  forgotten  nothing.  I  tingled 
as  if  I  heard  old  reproaches,  accusations,  bitter 
sarcasms.  People  talk  about  our  completely  chan 
ging  every  tissue  of  our  bodies  in  seven  years ;  but 
see  that  dent  in  my  forehead,  —  that  came  from  a 
fall  from  a  half-tamed  mustang  when  I  was  ten  years 
old.  It  is  a  part  of  me.  Wounds  heal  over,  but 
we  have  to  keep  the  scars  as  long  as  we  live.  What 
we  have  lived  through  is  a  part  of  ourselves.  It  is 
of  no  use  trying  to  run  away  from  an  experience, 
even  to  forget  it.  It  is  one's  self.  We  cannot  gov 
ern  fate." 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  267 

Eugenia  saw  that  Mrs.  Hernandez  was  over 
excited,  nervously  wrought  up. 

"  I  hate  aphorisms,  enigmas,  riddles,  at  twelve 
o'clock  at  night,  when  I  long  to  be  in  my  bed,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  cannot  keep  up  with  your  figures 
of  speech.  Drop  your  Spanish  proverbs  and  met 
aphors,  and  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  put  it 
into  clear  English." 

"  Come  into  my  room,"  said  Bella.  "  I  can  be 
taking  off  my  things  while  I  talk.  Turn  off  the 
gas." 

Leaving  Eugenia  to  extinguish  the  lights,  Bella 
went  on  to  her  own  room,  and  at  once  made  an 
equal  illumination  there,  before  the  three-fold  mir 
ror,  which  permitted  her  to  study  her  own  lovely 
image  from  each  point  of  view.  To  Eugenia,  fol 
lowing  in  her  steps,  and  pausing  at  the  door  to 
observe  this  proceeding,  it  seemed  as  if  Mrs.  Her 
nandez  were  pitting  her  beauty  against  that  of 
some  possible  rival  whom  she  longed  to  eclipse. 

"  You  appear  to  be  very  much  in  love  with  your 
self,"  Miss  Shepard  said  sharply. 

"I  am,"  Bella  returned,  laughing.  "I  was 
thinking  that  when  I  was  nineteen  I  was  a  thin,  sal 
low  creature.  All  my  beauty  was  in  the  future." 

"  It  is  midnight  and  past,"  said  Miss  Shepard. 
"  I  am  indifferent  to  all  the  beauty  of  the  three 
goddesses  rolled  into  one." 

"  Poor  Eugenia,"  said  Bella.  She  unclasped  her 
necklace  and  bracelets,  drew  out  the  diamond 


2G8      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

aigrette  from  her  hair,  and  tossed  them  on  the 
toilet-table.  "  Give  me  my  dressing-gown,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  am  stifled  in  this  uncomfortable  thing." 
She  unfastened  the  bodice,  took  off  the  dress  and 
flung  it  on  the  bed,  nestling  into  the  loose  quilted 
wrapper  of  dull  red  silk  which  Eugenia  held  up, 
not  buttoning  it,  but  folding  one  lace-trimmed  front 
across  the  other,  and  clasping  the  two  together  at 
the  belt  with  her  hands,  as  she  sat  down  in  a  low 
easy-chair  before  the  fire  of  coals  in  the  grate. 
"  Come  and  make  yourself  comfortable,"  she  said, 
in  a  tone  of  commiseration,  as  she  glanced  first  at 
her  own  reflection  in  the  mirror,  and  then  at  that 
of  Eugenia,  who  was  putting  away  the  diamonds  in 
their  cases,  smoothing  out  the  gloves,  the  lace 
handkerchief,  and  hanging  up  the  rich  gown.  It 
put  Bella  into  a  better  humor,  simply  to  see  her 
own  glowing  beauty  against  the  foil  of  her  com 
panion's  plainness. 

"  This  is  cosy,"  she  said,  as  Eugenia  finally  sat 
down.  "Now  we  can  talk."  She  held  out  her 
own  little  kid  bottine  to  the  fire,  touching  with  its 
pointed  toe  Eugenia's  huge,  shapeless,  worsted 
bedside  slipper. 

"  You  shall  talk,"  said  Eugenia  briefly.  "  And 
please  talk  to  the  purpose.  I  have  nothing  on 
earth  to  say." 

"  I  am  ready  to  talk  to  the  purpose.  You 
have  heard  me  tell  of  the  time  when  my  father 
kopt  a  boarding-house  by  the  Whitehouse  lode?" 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  269 

Eugenia  nodded  with  inward  discomfiture  that  this 
hideous  reminiscence,  instead  of  dwindling  in  remote 
perspective,  was  to  loom  up  closer.  "  When  I  used 
to  wait  on  the  table !  Imagine  me,  Bella  Brown, 
nineteen  years  old,  with  a  new  pink  calico  dress  one 
July  day,  for  the  first  time  waiting  on  a  young 
man  who,  instead  of  swearing  at  me,  or  treating  me 
with  vulgar  freedom,  looked  at  me  with  amazement, 
seemed  wretched  at  giving  me  trouble,  and 
finally  turned  a  drunken  fellow  out  of  the  room  for 
taking  a  liberty." 

"  This  young  man  was  —  " 

"This  young  man  had  just  arrived  from  the 
East,  —  he  was  a  mining-chemist,  an  assayist,  a 
mineralogist."  Bella  paused. 

"  Well,"  said  Eugenia. 

"  He  fell  in  love  with  me,  —  he  fell  in  love  on 
the  instant ;  a  week  later  we  were  engaged  to  be 
married,  and  from  that  moment  he  would  not  per 
mit  me  to  wrait  on  the  table.  He  told  my  father  it 
was  profanation ;  he  said  I  ought  not  to  be  per 
mitted  to  hold  the  most  distant  intercourse  with 
the  men  who  boarded  at  our  house.  It  was  not  his 
way  to  be  slow  about  anything  he  undertook.  Just 
after  the  first  of  August  we  were  married,  and  I 
went  to  live  in  my  own  house,  a  mile  away  from 
the  Whitehouse." 

"  What  was  this  young  man's  name  ?  "  inquired 
Miss  Shepard,  with  an  air  of  singular  precision. 

"  Lawrence  Garthe." 


270      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GsLRTHE. 

"  Never  in  all  my  life  before  have  I  heard  you 
make  an  allusion  to  Lawrence  Garthe." 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Bella  coolly.  "  There  are 
some  things  a  woman  is  not  inclined  to  talk  about. 
But  now  I  will  confide  to  you  the  fact  that 
Lawrence  Garthe  was  my  first  husband." 

"  I  supposed  Colonel  Iligby  was  your  first  hus 
band." 

"  No ;  Lawrence  Garthe.  It  is  only  the  first 
step  that  counts,  they  say,  and  judging,  by  my  sen 
sations  to-night,  one's  first  marriage  is  more  im 
pressive  than  any  later  one  can  be." 

"  Why  did  you  never  tell  me  this  before  ?  "  said 
Eugenia  almost  wildly.  "Before  I  consented  to 
join  you,  I  told  you  I  wanted  to  hear  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

"  The  whole  truth  is  a  large,  deep,  and  difficult 
thing  to  tackle  sometimes,"  said  Bella,  who  now 
fairly  embarked  in  her  narrative  seemed  to  be  in 
absolute  high  spirits.  "  I  told  you  that  I  had  been 
married  to  Colonel  Iligby,  then,  as  he  had  in  every 
way  disappointed  my  expectations,  not  only  having 
no  money,  but  in  having  every  bad  habit,  I  pro 
cured  a  divorce  from  him.  You  said  you  could 
not  blame  me.  You  know  that  I  then  married 
Aurelio  Hernandez.  That  seemed  sufficient  for  the 
moment." 

"  Did  this  Lawrence  Garthe  die  ?  "  demanded 
Miss  Shepard. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  is  alive  and  here  in  New 
York." 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.          271 

"  Did  you  part  ?  " 

"No  doubt  we  parted." 

"  Were  you  divorced  ?  " 

"  We  were  divorced.  That  is,  I  obtained  a 
divorce  on  the  ground  of  desertion.  You  may  have 
observed  that  on  the  first  day  of  every  month  I  re 
ceive  a  check  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
He  has  to  pay  me  that  amount  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Did  he  really  desert  you  ?  " 

"  He  really  deserted  me." 

"  Somehow,"  said  Eugenia  restlessly,  "  I  do  not 
quite  believe  you,  although  you  usually  tell  some 
fragment  of  the  truth." 

Bella  flung  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  I  admit,"  she  said  frankly,  "  there  were  some 
ins  and  outs  to  the  story.  It  burns  in  my  memory 
to-night,  —  I  must  tell  it;  I  was  almost  inclined 
to  pour  it  out  to  Ferdinand  Hartley.  I  can  think 
of  nothing  else,  I  can  see  nothing  else,  —  it  is  like 
a  fire  on  a  dark  night.  You  can't  begin  to  think 
how,  at  the  sight  of  him,  everything  belonging  to 
that  time  surged  over  me;  it  was  like  a  flood. 
And  after  all,  though  so  much  has  happened  since, 
it  was  less  than  nine  years  ago !  He  was  little  more 
than  a  boy  then,  —  he  is  young  still.  I  was  a 
saucy  young  girl,  on  the  lookout  for  a  lover  who 
was  to  be  the  handsomest  and  richest  fellow  on  that 
side  of  the  slope.  He  had  a  fair  salary,  but  there 
were  plenty  of  men  fifty  times  richer ;  but  what  I 
saw  in  him  I  had  seen  in  nobody  else.  He  was  so 


272      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

calm,  so  strong,  so  wise.  All  the  men  looked  up  to 
him  as  if  he  had  been  a  being  of  a  different  order." 

44  And  he  fell  in  love  with  you !  " 

44  Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  you,  Eugenia,  this 
being  of  a  superior  order  fell  in  love  with  me.  In 
a  month  we  were  married,  lie  built  a  little  house, 
quite  a  palace  for  those  parts,  with  five  rooms  in  it, 
and  we  went  to  housekeeping,  with  a  Chinaman  for 
help." 

44  Were  you  happy?  Were  you  in  love  wit •!• 
him?" 

44  I  was  flattered  out  of  my  senses.  I  supposed 
that  I  was  madly  in  love.  Happy  ?  I  expected  to 
die  of  happiness." 

44  Evidently,  I  see  you  were  n't  happy." 

44  Have  I  not  told  you  over  and  over  that  I  am 
a  true  modern  woman,  —  that  I  can't  be  happy  or 
contented  except  at  odd  moments  ?  I  felt  very 
proud  of  my  capture.  I  had  a  handsome,  adoring 
young  husband.  He  believed  in  me,  thought  I 
could  do  anything,  be  anything.  He  wanted  to 
develop  me.  He  set  about  teaching  me.  His  idea 
of  enjoyment  was  to  come  home  at  night,  read 
aloud  to  me,  or  have  me  read  aloud  to  him  until  ten 
o'clock  ;  then  when  I  had  gone  to  bed,  get  out  his 
books  and  work  until  midnight  or  later.  Some 
times  he  was  too  busy  at  the  mines  to  come  home  at 
all.  Oh,  that  first  winter  !  Our  Chinaman  fell  ill 
and  had  to  go  away.  The  snows  piled  up.  It  was 
so  cold  that  bread,  meat,  eggs,  were  solid  ice,  —  had 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.          273 

to  be  broken  with  an  axe.  There  were  days  when 
Lawrence  and  I  were  shut  up  together  as  if  in  a 
little  world  of  our  own.  inside  the  real  world.  He 
studied,  he  experimented,  he  read  to  me,  he  talked. 
He  was  brimful  of  wonder,  of  speculation,  of 
theory,  of  ideas  that  moved  him  out  of  himself,  over 
things  that  were  to  me  nothing  but  odd-looking 
stones,  or  queer-smelling  vapors.  It  was  not  my 
idea  of  what  was  an  interesting  life,  I  can  assure 
you.  I  grew  so  tired  of  it  all,  —  I  used  finally  to 
put  my  hands  to  my  ears.  He  used  to  gaze  at  me 
at  such  times,  as  if  he  were  heartbroken.  Then  he 
tried  other  diversions.  But  a  spell  was  upon  me ; 
I  was  restless,  discontented,  rebellious.  What 
did  I  want?  he  would  ask,  kneeling  before  me  some 
times.  Was  not  love,  companionship,  hope,  enough 
for  me?  Had  I  not  my  baby-clothes  to  make, 
and  when  I  tired  of  sewing,  had  I  not  his  society, 
books,  portfolios  of  photographs,  a  cabinet  of 
curious  minerals?  I  was  as  incomprehensible  to 
him  as  he  was  incomprehensible  to  me.  He  used 
to  say  he  should  like  a  whole  week's  leisure,  just  to 
sit  and  look  at  the  mountain  peaks  where  they  met 
the  sky ;  and  I  remember  once  assuring  him  that  I 
hated  the  mountains,  hated  the  sky,  —  that  every 
thing  I  saw  above,  around,  below,  seemed  to  me 
prison- walls,  which  I  longed  to  break  through.  He 
did  not,  he  could  not  understand  that  I  found  it 
dull,  just  dull,  —  that  I  missed  the  old  life  at  home 
with  its  hard  work,  its  noise,  bustle,  and  variety. 


274      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

At  home  there  was  always  news ;  something  had 
happened,  —  somebody  had  struck  a  new  vein  ; 
somebody  had  picked  up  a  rich  nugget ;  there  had 
been  a  fight,  a  railway  accident,  —  something  to 
think  about  and  talk  about.  Then  all  the  men  who 
came  and  went  at  our  house  had  a  word  for  me,  a 
joke,  a  compliment,  a  present.  I  liked  them,  rough 
as  they  were,  but  had  turned  my  back  on  them  for  the 
sake  of  a  slim,  elegant  young  fellow  who  was  furious 
if  one  of  my  old  cronies  ventured  to  approach  me. 
What  I  lived  on,  he  loathed.  .  .  .  Then  the  baby 
came!" 

-You  had  a  child!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  little  boy  named  after  his  father. 
What  a  frightful  ordeal !  Then  what  a  bondage ! 
You  talk  about  the  wrongs  of  women,  Eugenia,  but 
you  don't  know  how  cruelly  we  are  treated,  not 
alone  by  man  but  by  Nature.  Before  the  child 
was  born,  I  had  exuberant  health  and  no  occupations 
to  expend  it  on.  I  ha4  complained  at  first  of 
having  nothing  to  do  after  I  was  married.  I  assure 
you,  I  had  plenty  to  occupy  me  after  the  child 
came.  My  own  health  was  spoiled  then.  I  had 
no  experience,  and  more  than  once  the  little 
creature  almost  died  of  cramp  or  croup  or  colic.  I 
could  n't  get  hold  of  a  respectable  woman  to  help 
me  nurse  him,  and  Lawrence  was,  oh,  so  deadly 
particular,  that  a  woman  who  was  not  respectable 
must  not  be  allowed  to  contaminate  me.  That  hus 
band  of  mine  seemed  as  soft  as  silk,  but  where  the 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.          275 

baby  was  concerned  he  held  me  to  my  duties  with 
a  clutch  like  iron.  It  seemed  to  me  he  no  longer 
cared  for  me  ;  he  seemed  to  have  no  thought  of 
what  /  liked,  of  what  I  wished.  I  was  simply  in 
his  eyes  the  mother,  the  nurse  of  his  boy  !  My 
strength  came  back,  and  then  things  grew  even  more 
insupportable.  There  I  was,  only  twenty  years  old, 
with  the  blood  bubbling  in  my  veins  like  cham 
pagne,  longing  day  after  day  for  something  to 
break  the  silence,  the  tedium.  I  used  to  beg  him 
to  live  in  a  town  or  a  city,  some  place  where  I 
might  find  human  companionship,  something  inter 
esting  to  do.  '  What  would  you  do  if  you  could  ?  ' 
he  asked  one  day  when  I  was  pouring  out  com 
plaints.  I  replied  that  I  had  an  individual  life  to 
lead,  that  I  was  no  mere  appendage  to  him  and  the 
child ;  that  I  wanted  and  needed  and  demanded  a 
career  of  my  own,  just  as  he  wanted  a  career  for 
himself.  Why  should  I  not  tell  him  it  was  his 
first  duty  in  life  to  stay  at  home  and  mind  the 
baby? 

"  He  looked  at  me,  —  I  can  see  him  now  with  his 
brow  all  in  a  pucker.  Then  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
'Ever  since  I  was  ten  years  old  I  have  been  at 
work.  It  has  been  dig,  dig,  dig,  with  me  ;  first  to 
find  out  where  it  was  best  to  take  hold,  then  how 
to  take  hold,  and  then  to  set  myself  doggedly  at 
the  task.  I  wanted  to  make  my  own  living ;  but 
more  than  that,  I  wanted  the  happiness,  the 
stimulus,  the  emancipation  of  a  real  knowledge  of 


276      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

my  profession.  I  have  gone  on  so  far,  but  I  have 
no  intention  of  remaining  fixed  forever  in  one 
groove.'  I  told  him  I  was  glad  to  hear  that,  for  I 
had  feared  he  loved  the  rut  he  was  in  for  its  own 
sake.  I  asked  him  to  go  to  Francisco,  or  some 
place  on  the  coast. 

u  He  stared  at  me  and  said  he  needed  his  salary 
to  buy  clothes  for  me  and  the  boy,  to  feed  us,  to 
give  us  a  home.  He  said  he  needed  to  study  hard, 
or  other  men  better  equipped  than  himself  would 
push  him  out  of  his  place.  I  told  him  that  if  we 
went  to  some  city  I  could  earn  money  to  support 
myself,  —  that  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so  ;  that  I 
liked  work,  that  in  old  days  at  home  with  hard 
work  to  do  and  plenty  to  see  and  think  about,  I 
had  never  been  discontented  or  unhappy.  You 
should  have  seen  the  scorn  he  flashed  out  at  me, 
—  that  I  was  pining  for  the  society  of  the  uncouth, 
unwashed  crowd  he  had  saved  me  from,  —  half  of 
them  thieves  and  gamblers,  some  of  them  mur 
derers,  ready  to  settle  any  brawl  with  a  stab  or 
pistol  shot.  .  .  .  He  could  pour  out  angry  re 
proaches,  bitter  sarcasms,  but  then  he  was  sure  to 
melt.  He  used  to  make  me  feel,  at  times,  that 
unless  I  could  become  as  good,  as  sweet  and  noble 
as  he  wanted  me  to  be,  he  should  die  of  grief,  of 
shame,  of  humiliation.  What  he  would  not,  what 
he  could  not  understand  was  that  I  was  myself,  — 
that  by  my  own  heart,  lungs,  brain,  muscles,  and 
nerves  I  had  to  feel,  think,  act;  that  by  no 


BELLA'S  STEANGE  EXPERIENCE.          277 

virtue  of  his  heart,  brain,  muscles,  nerves,  could  I 
live  for  a  day,  and  that  I  could  no  more  absorb  his 
spiritual  than  his  material  essence." 

She  paused  and  looked  at  Eugenia,  who  sat 
huddling  for  warmth  over  the  fire,  her  eyes  almost 
closed,  her  face  drawn  and  lifeless. 

"  Of  course  you  agree  with  me,  Eugenia,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  echoing  words  you  have  spoken 
again  and  again." 

"  Words  I  have  spoken  ?  "  Eugenia  repeated  as 
if  aghast. 

"  I  have  heard  you  say  in  private  and  in  public 
that  a  woman  has  just  the  same  right  to  seek  free 
play  for  her  powers  and  faculties  as  a  man  ;  that 
no  more  essential  reason  exists  for  her  being  a 
slave  to  domesticity  than  for  his  being  a  slave." 

"I  go  with  you  part  way,"  said  Eugenia  in  a 
harsh  voice,  "  but  I  should  be  a  fool  if  I  did  not 
accept  the  fact  that  so  long  as  the  world  is  to  last 
women  must  bear  children,  and  that  "  — 

"  I  have  heard  you  say  that  a  woman  has  a  right 
to  make  her  choice,  to  " 

"But  you  made  your  choice,"  cried  Eugenia 
sharply.  "  You  married  a  good  man  who  loved 
you,  —  you  promised  yourself  to  him  for  better  or 
for  worse." 

"  There  was  no  choice  in  the  matter.  I  was  a 
mere  child.  I  was  surprised,  flattered,  carried 
away  by  novelty,  —  my  father  considered  it  a 
great  chance  for  me  to  marry  Lawrence  Garthe. 


278      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Before  I  had  time  to  analyze  my  own  real  wishes 
and  inclinations  I  was  shut  up  in  a  cabin  with  a 
man  whose  ideas  of  everything  in  existence  were 
the  exact  opposite  of  my  own,  who  believed  that 
in  making  me  his  wife  he  put  his  own  private  seal 
on  each  one  of  my  thoughts,  feelings,  cravings,  and 
passions.  No,  I  did  not  exercise  my  right  of  free 
choice  at  all,  or  I  should  never  have  chosen  him. 
lie  soon  found  out  that  he  could  not  make  me  his 
willing  slave,  —  a  docile  little  creature  with  no 
mind,  heart,  or  will  of  her  own,  content  to  sit 
admiringly  echoing  each  of  his  opinions."  She 
gave  a  little  low  laugh.  "  The  odd  thing  was," 
she  added,  "  that  with  his  growing  knowledge  of 
what  I  had  in  me,  he  should  have  let  me  go  out 
of  his  sight/' 

"  What  happened  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Shepard 
almost  fiercely. 

"  He  was  already  jealous  of  everything  and  of 
everybody  ;  he  might  have  known  that —  " 

"  What  happened  ?  "  said  Miss  Shepard  with  an 
impatient  gesture.  Bella  drew  a  long,  deep 
breath. 

"  He  had  to  go  to  Alaska.  I  begged  to  go 
along,  but  he  would  not  take  me.  He  said  that 
he  must  have  three  or  four  men  with  him,  and  that 
it  was  no  party  for  a  woman  to  join/'  She 
stopped  short,  put  her  hand  to  her  breast,  and 
again,  as  if  stifled,  drew  in  that  long,  deep  breath. 
"  But  I  felt  all  the  time,"  she  went  on  in  a  soft, 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  279 

clear  tone,  "  that  the  actual  reason  was  that,  as  the 
boy  was  too  young  to  be  left,  he  considered  it  my 
duty  to  stay  and  take  care  of  him." 

"  How  old  was  the  child  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  months.  I  could  have  left  him  per 
fectly  well  with  Mrs.  Fraser,  who  came  to  stay 
with  me."  She  gave  a  shuddering  little  laugh. 
"  In  fact  I  did  leave  him  with  her." 

"  Who  was  Mrs.  Fraser  ?  " 

"The  wife  of  the  superintendent."  Bella  was 
leaning  forward  and  looking  into  the  fire. 

"  Tell  me  what  happened,"  said  Eugenia. 

"  It  was  horrible,  being  left,"  said  Bella  dream 
ily.  "  We  were  on  the  mountain  slope.  I  could 
not  sleep  at  night,  it  was  so  eerie.  There  were 
strange  noises,  —  something  used  to  come  and 
howl  outside." 

She  paused  and  looked  up  at  Eugenia  with  an 
expression  half  appealing. 

"What  happened?"  demanded  Eugenia  in 
flexibly. 

Again  Bella  drew  in  that  long  shuddering 
breath. 

"  He  was  to  have  been  gone  from  six  to  eight 
weeks.  He  came  back  at  the  end  of  four,  and,  as 
it  turned  out,  I  was  not  there." 

"  Where  were  you  ?  " 

"  You  need  not  be  so  fierce.  I  simply  took  a 
little  outing.  I  needed  a  little  amusement.  There 
was  no  great  harm  done.  It  was  his  coming  back 


280      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

unexpectedly,  finding  Mrs.  Fraser  taking  care  of 
the  boy,  pressing  inquiries  upon  her,  then  following 
up  the  clue  she  gave,  which  did  the  mischief.  It 
was  not  alone  Mrs.  Fraser,  —  everybody  had  been 
watching,  it  seems,  and  had  some  dreadful  story  to 
pour  into  his  ears.  Meantime  I  heard  that  he  had 
returned.  I  knew  that  it  would  all  seem  horrible 
to  him,  —  that  each  little  indiscretion,  rebellion, 
and  naughtiness  of  mine  would  now  be  to  him  a 

O 

sure  index  pointing  to  sin.  I  have  said  that  he 
was  jealous,  and  the  instant  a  man  is  jealous,  jeal 
ousy  teaches  him  base  suspicion,  outrageous  conjec 
ture.  What  do  you  suppose  Lawrence  did  ?  " 

Eugenia,  with  her  chin  dropped,  her  eyes  raised 
and  fixed  like  those  of  one  suffering  mortal  pain, 
was  cowering  in  her  chair.  She  did  not  speak. 

"  He  resigned  his  position  at  the  mines,  took 
the  boy,  and  vanished,"  said  Bella,  looking  down 
at  the  tips  of  her  pointed  toes.  "  So  after  a  time 
I  applied  for  a  divorce  on  the  ground  of  deser 
tion." 

Perhaps  dismayed  by  her  companion's  silence 
she  looked  at  her. 

"  Are  you  asleep,  Eugenia  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Eugenia  in  a  dull  suffering  voice. 

"  How  does  it  all  strike  you  ?  " 

Eugenia  seemed,  as  if  by  hard  effort,  to  pull 
herself  together. 

"  Why  did  you  never  tell  me  this  story  before  ?  " 
she  faltered. 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.          281 

"  It  all  happened  long  ago,"  said  Bella  calmly. 
44 1  got  my  case,  and,  011  promising  to  give  up  all 
claim  to  my  child,  I  was  granted  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  a  month  alimony.  So  you  see  I  was 
left  entirely  free." 

"  Free !     Good  God  !     You  call  that  freedom  ?  " 

"  Had  he  not  left  me  neither  maid,  wife,  nor 
widow  ?  He  owed  me  something." 

"  What  was  his  plea !  What  was  his  justifica 
tion?" 

"  He  was  already  in  Europe.  He  left  his  case 
to  the  lawyers.  He  made  no  accusation,  he  put  up 
no  defense.  All  he  asked  for  was  to  have  full 
possession  of  the  child.  We  might  have  made 
him  pay  more  if  we  had  insisted,  but  we  did  not 
realize  our  own  strength." 

Eugenia  gazed  at  her  with  a  strange  anxiety. 

"  I  'm  afraid,"  she  whispered,  "  there  was  some 
thing  behind  all  this." 

Bella  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  There  certainly  was,"  she  said  with  composure. 
"  You  may  as  well  be  a  rational  woman,  a  woman 
of  the  world.  When  there  is  a  scandal  about  a 
woman  there  is  apt  to  be  a  man  behind  it." 

"  Oh,  great  heavens !  " 

"  I  was  married  to  him,  —  I  was  married  to  him 
the  very  day  I  could  legally  marry  him,  if  that  is 
your  apprehension,"  said  Bella.  "It  was  all  a 
horrible  mistake,  —  the  great  mistake  of  my  life. 
I  was  wretchedly  taken  in." 


282      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  Was  it  Colonel  Higby  ?"  inquired  Eugenia,  as 
if  with  a  faint  hope  that  she  was  regaining  depths 
already  plumbed. 

"No,  his  name  was  Algernon  Danvers-Carr. 
He  was  an  Englishman,  —  his  grandfather  was  a 
baronet.  lie  had  drifted  away  from  civilized  life 
and  made  himself  a  career  in  the  West.  When  I 
knew  him  he  was  a  horse-breaker." 

"  A  horse-breaker !  " 

"  You  may  be  horrified,  but  it  is  a  very  good 
profession  out  among  those  great  ranches,  and  I 
assure  you  it  is  rather  a  fascinating  experience  to 
see  a  handsome  fellow  break  in  blooded  colts  and 
wild  mustangs.  I  myself  had  a  taste  for  riding 
and  I  used  to  help  him,  —  that  was  at  first,  before 
I  myself  had  been  broken  in  to  harness.  Oh, 
let  us  talk  of  something  pleasanter." 

"Did  you  have  a  divorce  from  him  too?" 

"  No,  he  was  shot  in  a  fight  at  Evan's ;  by  ac 
cident,  they  pretended." 

Eugenia  had  hidden  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Now  you  have  my  whole  history,"  said  Bella, 
"  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  you  despise  me."  She 
had  seen  a  little  trembling  shiver  pass  over  the 
recumbent  figure.  "  I  realize  too  late,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  that  I  have  been  too  candid.  I  ought,  if 
not  to  have  suppressed  it,  at  least  to  have  glossed 
it  over.  But  I  did  believe,  Eugenia,  that  you 
upheld  your  sex,  stood  by  them  through  thick  and 
thin,  when  they  were  left  to  fight  their  own  battle. 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  283 

You  theorize  very  well,  but  your  practice  is  not 
worth  a  button.  You  draw  back  frightened  when 
a  woman  acts  on  the  propaganda  you  proclaim. 
Now  I,  at  least,  have  the  courage  of  my  opin 
ions." 

"  If  you  had  told  me  your  true  histtfry  when  we 
first  met !  "  said  Eugenia  with  a  sort  of  desperation. 

"  I  did  tell  you  I  had  had  two  husbands.  After 
all,  I  have  had  only  four." 

u  So  far,  —  you  are  thinking  of  another,"  said 
Eugenia,  guiltless  of  sarcasm,  merely  stating  a 
fact. 

"  Yes,  I  am  thinking  of  another."  Bella 
laughed  slightly  as  she  spoke,  but  at  the  same  time 
gave  a  little  shudder  and  bent  over  the  fire. 
"  You  need  not  suppose,"  she  added  hastily,  "  that 
I  am  utterly  callous.  I  have  more  history  than  I 
like  to  admit.  I  don't  so  much  mind  the  actual 
fact,  as  the  being  laughed  at,  —  for  it  is  absurd. 
Sometimes  when  I  am  in  high  spirits  I  laugh  at 
myself.  I  heard  a  story  once  of  a  man  who  had 
four  wives,  and  buried  one  at  each  corner  of  his 
lot  in  the  cemetery,  while  he  erected  his  own  tomb 
in  the  centre,  with  a  hand  pointing  from  each  of  his 
wives'  graves  towards  the  words  '  Our  husband.'  " 

She  burst  into  shrill  laughter. 

"  What  will  the  woman  not  laugh  at  ? "  mut 
tered  Eugenia. 

"  Two  are  dead  and  two  are  alive,"  said  Bella 
in  an  odd  voice,  "  and  one  of  them  is  living  here 


284      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

in  New  York,  —  with  my  little  boy,  the  only  child 
I  have  in  the  world/' 

"  Your  little  boy !  "  ejaculated  Eugenia.  "  I 
had  n't  thought  of  that." 

u  Yes,  my  little  boy.  I  had  a  little  girl  by  my 
second  husband,  —  she  died  when  she  was  six 
months  old.  She  was  a  beautiful  little  creature," 
Bella  said  in  a  dreamy  voice.  u  I  want  to  see 
what  my  boy  is  like." 

"  You  gave  him  up,  —  you  gave  him  up  for 
money." 

"  That  does  not  alter  the  fact  of  his  being  my 
own  child,"  said  Bella  calmly.  "  I  do  not  pretend 
to  possess  overwhelming  maternal  instincts  ;  still 
one's  child  is  one's  child,  and  a  mother  must  feel  a 
certain  amount  of  curiosity."  She  gazed  medita 
tively  into  the  fire.  "  I  saw  Lawrence  quite 
plainly,"  she  added  after  a  few  moments'  silence. 
tk  He  is  scarcely  any  older,  and  if  anything  he  is 
handsomer  than  he  was.  He  did  not  look  un 
happy.  Unhappy,  I  should  think  not !  Ferdinand 
Hartley  says  that  he  is  well  off,  if  not  rich,  that 
he  is  in  love  with  that  Mrs.  Garner  we  have  seen, 
—  you  remember  her,  Eugenia,  —  a  rather  pretty, 
faded-out  creature,  —  graceful  manners,  but  — 
She  broke  off.  "After  all,"  she  said  in  a  different 
tone,  "it  is  I  who  have  had  to  pay,  not  he." 

"  Who  breaks  pays,"  said  Eugenia. 

"  I  can  afford  to  pay,"  said  Bella  insolently. 
"  And  after  all  I  have  not  done  so  badly.  To 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.  285 

compare  myself  with  what  I  was  when  I  set  out 
ought  to  encourage  me  to  go  on  living."  She 
laughed.  "  Here  I  am  living  in  luxury.  I  can 
marry  a  young  man  of  good  family  and  position, 
handsome,  highly  educated,  who  is  used  to  having 
everything  that  is  best  in  life.  I  am  vouched  for 
by  one  of  the  prominent  women  of  the  day  "  — 

"A  blind  leader  of  the  blind,"  muttered  Eu 
genia. 

"  A  woman,"  continued  Bella,  mimicking  the 
tone  and  words  of  a  presiding  officer  who  had 
the  day  before  introduced  Miss  Shepard  at  a  con 
vention  of  notables,  "  who  is  preaching  the  new 
crusade,  who  is  declaring  the  new  evangel." 

"  It  is  not  true,"  cried  Eugenia  excitedly,  her 
voice  rising  to  a  half-suppressed  shriek.  "  I  do  not 
preach  the  crusade  of  women  who  break  every  tie, 
disregard  every  obligation,  who  are  true  to  no 
thing." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Bella  mockingly,  "  I  have  been 
true  to  myself." 

"  To  your  wild,  reckless  impulse,  to  " 

"Don't  preach.  As  a  mere  matter  of  taste  I 
might  have  preferred  a  pleasanter  road  without 
dust,  stones,  mire,  but  I  had  to  do  what  I* 
could.  I  was  not  born  in  the  purple,  —  my  oppor 
tunities  did  not  come  to  me  ready-made.  Whatever 
I  have  been  through,  at  last  I  have  arrived,  and  I 
am  glad  that  I  am  what  I  am,  —  that  I  shall 
always  be  I,  Bella  Brown,  and  nobody  else." 


286      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Miss  Shepard  moaned  drearily. 

"  You  are  quite  worn  out,  Eugenia.  You  had 
better  go  to  bed,"  said  Bella  with  commiseration. 
"  These  late  hours  tell  on  your  spirits  and  temper, 
and  your  good  looks  suffer.  I  assure  you  they  do. 
Go  to  bed.  Shall  I  give  you  a  glass  of  port 
wine  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you."  Eugenia  rose  stiffly  and  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  down  at  the  other  with  a 
grim  face. 

"  Kiss  me  good-night,"  said  Bella  imperiously. 
"  I  'm  no  worse  than  I  was  twenty-four  hours  ago, 
and  then  you  seemed  downright  fond  of  me." 

Eugenia  stooped  and  pressed  an  arid  kiss  on  the 
rosy  cheek,  then  stalked  out  of  the  room  without 
another  word. 

The  fire  was  low,  but  Bella  sat  bending  over  it 
for  half  an  hour  yet.  She  had  lived  through  so 
many  conditions  of  mind  and  body,  so  separate 
and  so  distinct,  that  each  seemed  to  represent  a 
different  identity ;  but  at  this  moment  the  tingle 
and  the  thrill  of  old  feelings,  sensations,  and 
experiences,  were  all  related  to  Lawrence  Garthe. 
Floating,  scattered  threads  of  memory  and  asso 
ciation  were  re-gathered  and  re-woven  into  one 
single  picture.  She  felt  as  if  there  must  be  some 
way  of  paying  him  a  part  of  the  debt  she  owed  him. 
The  quick  thumping  of  her  heart  had  returned. 
Her  blood  moved  in  a  livelier  current  than  her 
intellect ;  but  at  intervals  some  intimation  of  pos* 


BELLA'S  STRANGE  EXPERIENCE.          287 

sible  action  darted  across  her  mind  like  lightning 
playing  on  the  edge  of  a  dull,  immoving  cloud. 

After  a  time,  tired  of  ineffectual  wrestling  with 
what  constantly  vanished  into  impalpability  the 
moment  she  touched  it,  she  yawned,  stretched  out 
her  arms,  and  rose.  Half  a  dozen  jets  of  gas  were 
still  blazing,  and  threw  a  dazzling  reflection  of  her 
image  into  the  glass  as  she  turned.  She  stood 
still,  regarding  herself,  her  thoughts  gaining  co 
herence,  and  some  clear  intention  gathering  force. 
The  expression  of  her  eyes  and  lips  suggested  that 
she  was  mentally  rehearsing  a  drama  in  which  some 
man  had  to  play  his  part  against  her,  and  by  her 
smile,  touched  with  irony  and  disdain,  she  seemed 
to  win.  Apparently  she  developed  her  scheme 
quite  to  her  own  liking,  for  once  or  twice,  while 
she  was  undressing,  she  uttered  a  little  peal  of  mis 
chievous  laughter,  and  even  after  she  was  in  bed, 
her  cheek  against  the  pillow  and  her  lithe  figure 
nestled  in  an  attitude  of  complete  repose  under 
sheets  and  blankets,  there  came  again  that  peal 
of  laughter,  evidently  the  effervescence  of  some 
aspiration,  hope,  or  resolution  welling  up  joyfully 
within  her. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

GARTHE  AND  LARRY. 

THE  first  face  Garthe  saw  in  the  morning  when 
he  opened  his  eyes  was  certain  to  be  his  little  son's. 
Larry  would  come  rushing  down  the  stairs  as  soon 
as  he  was  awake,  to  make  sure  that  his  father  was 
in  his  bed.  He  sprang  into  the  extended  arms 
with  a  cry  of  joy ;  he  pressed  kisses  upon  the  lips, 
the  cheeks,  the  eyelids,  the  temples,  of  the  calm, 
faintly  smiling  face.  The  boy  had  a  hundred  little 
comidences  to  pour  into  the  willing  ears.  At  the 
mere  sight  of  his  father  a  dozen  sensations  rushed 
together  at  once,  and  sometimes  made  such  a  knot 
in  his  throat  that  he  had,  in  spite  of  being  so  happy, 
to  burst  out  crying.  He  loved  his  father  so  much ; 
he  was  so  proud  of  him  ;  he  longed  so  to  be  beloved 
by  him,  to  be  a  joy,  to  be  clever,  to  be  good,  in  order 
to  please  him;  above  all,  to  get  close,  very  close, 
and  to  hug  him !  The  same  outburst  of  feeling 
took  place  when  Garthe  came  home  before  dinner. 
The  man  seemed  sometimes  rather  to  undergo  these 
caresses  than  to  answer  them,  but  if  passive  he  was 
not  cold.  Something  in  his  vivid  look,  in  his  half 
smile,  in  the  strong  clasp  of  his  arms,  would  thrill 
the  little  fellow  with  a  delicious  ecstasy  of  feeling. 


GAETHE  AND  LAEEY.  289 

"  You  love  me,  you  do  love  me  dearly,  don't  you, 
papa  ?  "  Larry  would  say  with  intense  satisfaction 
as  he  curled  into  his  father's  embrace  and  nestled 
close  within  the  encircling  pressure. 

Then  Garthe  would  give  a  little  nod,  or  woidd 
say,  "  Oh  yes,  my  little  son,  papa  loves  you." 

It  was  this  joy  in  loving,  this  necessity  of  being 
beloved,  which  gave  Garthe  a  fuller  insight  into 
what  new  faculties,  what  deeper  happiness,  Con 
stance  might  bring  into  Larry's  life.  Nothing 
Garthe  could  have  urged  in  his  own  behalf  could 
have  smitten  him  with  the  same  tenderness  as  this 
realization  of  Larry's  need  of  a  mother.  The 
chief  constituent  of  Garthe's  own  mind  had  so  long 
been  a  stoical  acceptance  of  his  lot,  he  could 
hardly  believe  in  his  own  right  to  expect  happiness. 
Not  sorrow  but  joy  seemed  incongruous  where  he 
himself  was  concerned.  Within  reach  of  Constance, 
he  was  nothing  if  not  a  passionate  lover ;  but  often 
enough,  when  alone  over  his  own  fire  at  midnight, 
this  impulse  towards  the  sweetest  woman  he  had 
ever  seen  was  apt  to  seem  a  waste  of  aspiration,  in 
complete  and  always  to  be  incomplete ;  his  ardor 
rather  something  to  be  conquered  than  permitted ; 
his  hope  rather  to  be  crucified  than  crowned.  This 
was  when  he  thought  simply  of  his  wish  to  have  her 
as  his  wife ;  as  Larry's  mother,  his  hope  to  bring 
her  to  his  lonely  house  became  resolution,  and  his 
faith  in  a  happy  future  an  active  force.  He  liked, 
accordingly,  to  image  to  himself  Larry's  little  curly 


290      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

head  against  Constance's  shoulder ;  her  arm  about 
him,  her  pure  proud  face  rising  above  his.  He 
carried  this  mental  picture  about  with  him  so  con 
stantly  that  presently  it  became  an  inexhaustible 
resource  to  think  of  Constance  forever  close  to 
Larry.  As  the  boy  ran  down  the  stairs,  was  she 
not  somewhere  behind  him,  like  the  child  all  thrill 
ing  and  expectant  with  a  soft  glance  of  welcome  in 
her  eyes  ?  At  table  Garthe  could  imagine  her  across 
the  board,  and  in  twilight  or  firelight,  when 
Larry  perched  on  his  knee  and  chattered  of  his 
playmates,  of  his  teacher,  the  pictures  he  had  drawn, 
the  horse  he  had  modeled,  she  was  near,  quiet  to 
all  seeming,  yet  instinct  with  life ;  only  a  reaching 
out  of  the  hand,  a  touch,  was  necessary.  Often 
enough,  as  Garthe  took  his  little  son  in  his  arms 
now-a-days,  he  felt  the  weight  of  the  little  body  with 
a  thrill  which  awoke  a  strange  gush  of  tenderness. 
One  Sunday  afternoon  in  February,  Garthe  told 
Larry  he  woidd  give  him  a  lesson  in  skating ;  and, 
setting  out,  they  walked  across  the  park  to  a  quiet 
little  pond.  It  was  a  day  of  crystalline  clearness. 
It  had  first  rained,  then  frozen,  the  night  before, 
and  the  trees  and  shrubs  were  covered  with  a  shin 
ing  white  crust.  Every  thicket  was  transformed 
into  a  fairy  grotto ;  icicles  glittered  on  the  statues. 
From  every  object  was  reflected  prismatic  light. 
The  whole  park  was  alive.  An  incessant  stream 
of  sleighs  of  every  shape,  with  gayly  decked  horses, 
glided  rapidly  along  the  drives,  which  were  lined 


GAETHE  AND  LAEEY.  291 

with  a  crowd  of  lookers-on  enjoying  the  glitter,  the 
stir,  the  melody  of  the  bells.  Larry  was  in  high 
glee.  They  found  a  quiet  nook  ;  his  father  fastened 
on  his  skates,  then,  supporting  him,  bore  him  about 
on  wings,  as  it  were,  until  he  gained  courage. 
Timid  at  first,  the  little  fellow  gradually  became 
assured.  Still  grasping  his  father's  arm,  he  could 
venture  to  strike  out,  almost  independently.  Fi 
nally  Garthe  himself  put  on  a  pair  of  skates,  took 
the  boy  by  the  hand,  and  off  they  skated  together ! 
How  fast  they  went,  thought  Larry,  how  smooth, 
how  pleasant,  how  swift  the  motion !  It  was  like 
flying!  He  believed  he  could  fly  by  himself,  and 
he  begged  his  father  to  trust  him  to  his  own  wings. 
Oh,  what  an  awkward  tumble  ! 

"I  am  safest  with  you,  papa,"  cried  Larry. 
"  Don't  let  me  go  alone  any  more." 

Garthe  was  almost  as  happy  as  the  boy  himself. 
It  was  one  of  those  days  when  a  stimulating,  vital 
izing  quality  in  the  air  gives  a  man  possession  of 
his  whole  strength ;  when  exercise  brings  a  sense 
of  refreshment,  of  mental  and  physical  equipoise. 
The  thought  of  Constance  did  not  leave  him. 
Everything  seemed  easy.  Any  reason  for  hesita 
tion,  for  delay,  would  soon  be  over.  Kathy  would 
incline  towards  Mr.  Marchmont ;  if  not,  she  could 
live  with  Constance  and  himself.  Practical  ques 
tions  took  their  places  along  with  others.  He 
would  buy  the  Garner  house  on  Lexington  Avenue, 
and  present  it  to  Constance  on  their  wedding  day. 


292      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

He  could  afford  the  outlay,  and  it  would  be  a  plea 
sure  to  save  his  wife  any  wrench  away  from  her 
lifelong  associations.  This  feeling  of  conferring  a 
benefit,  of  making  her  way  clearer,  seemed  to  just 
ify  his  course,  if  it  needed  justification.  To-day  he 
did  not  deny  himself  the  joy  of  counting  assuredly 
upon  a  happy  future. 

The  sun  was  low.  The  rays  struck  horizontally 
across  the  landscape,  setting  a  warm  halo  round 
the  blonde  heads  of  the  boys  and  girls  on  the  ice. 

"  Come,  Larry,  we  must  go  home,"  he  said. 

The  boy  looked  up,  his  eyes  full  of  light,  his 
mind  running  over  with  impressions  of  his  joy  in 
his  new  skates,  the  crisp  air,  the  sounds  of  life,  the 
moving  masses  of  color,  the  joy  of  being  with  his 
father. 

"Oh,  don't  go  home  yet,  papa,"  he  cried. 
"  There 's  nothing  at  home." 

"  Oh  yes,  there  ?s  supper,  and  a  fire,  and  a  bed,  ' 
said  Garthe.  He  took  off  the  little  fellow's  skates, 
although  he  constantly  implored  :  — 

"  Oh,  dearest,  best  papa,  not  yet." 

"  There  comes  the  moon,"  said  Garthe.  "  It  is 
full  to-night,  and  rises  just  as  the  sun  sets." 

In  the  west,  although  the  red  disk  had  sunk 
bfclow  the  horizon,  broken  fiery  rays  lighted  up  the 
sky.  In  the  east,  behind  the  frozen  pond  which 
gleamed  steely  blue,  and  the  trees  on  the  knoll 
which  stood  out  clearly,  some  of  their  branches 
still  imprisoning  in  their  icicles  the  hues  of  the 


GAETHE  AND  LARRY.  293 

siaiset,  floated  up  the  golden  moon.  They  walked 
towards  it. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  fellow  of  your  age,"  said 
Garthe,  "  I  had  a  brother  just  two  years  older.  It 
was  he  who  taught  me  how  to  skate.  We  used  also 
to  coast  together  down  a  long,  long  hill.  While  I 
had  him  with  me  to  climb  to  the  top  again  I  did 
not  mind  how  high  that  hill  was.  But  Benny  fell 
ill ;  so  ill  that  I  had  to  sit  quietly  about  the  house  and 
make  no  noise,  —  simply  wait,  wait,  wait  for  some 
body  to  come  out  of  the  room  and  tell  me  how  he 
was.  They  would  not  let  me  go  in,  although  more 
than  once  I  heard  him  calling  me.  When  finally 
I  was  admitted,  he  lay  still,  very  still.  He  was 
dressed  in  white,  and  his  hands,  which  had  used  to 
be  red,  chubby,  rough,  and  not  over  clean,  were  white 
and  slender.  After  that,  when  I  had  to  climb  up 
the  long  hill  with  my  sled  all  alone,  I  used  to  feel 
my  eyes  smart  and  a  lump  in  my  throat.  The  wind 
was  so  cold,  and  I  was  so  lonely !  " 

"  But  what  became  of  Benny,  papa  ?  " 

"  You  see,  dear,  he  had  died." 

"  Oh,  papa !  "  cried  Larry,  his  little  face  puck 
ering. 

"  Yes,  it  was  very  sad,  very  miserable.  Before 
then  there  had  been  mamma,  Benny,  and  me. 
After  that  I  had  only  mamma." 

"  You  had  no  papa  ?  " 

"  No,  he  died  when  I  was  three  years  old." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did  n't  die,  papa,"  said  Larry, 


294      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

trying  to  assert  his  own  good  fortune  against  all 
these  reasons  for  despair. 

"  By-and-by,  after  tea,"  said  Garthe,  "  I  will  tell 
you  how  dear  my  mamma  was  to  me,  —  how 
precious  it  was  to  have  a  mamma.  You  may  tell 
Amelia  that  she  and  Button  can  both  go  to  church. 
I  will  put  you  to  bed  myself." 

Delightful  promise !  To  be  left  to  his  father's 
sole  care  was  invariably  to  have  some  wonderfully 
satisfying  experience.  They  had  dined  early,  and 
for  tea  had  a  cold  roast  chicken,  and  marmalade. 
Larry  had  been  out  in  the  cool  crisp  air ;  he  had 
used  his  muscles  unwontedly;  he  had  been  very 
hungry ;  he  had  eaten  his  fill ;  he  had  drunk  two 
whole  cups  of  hot  milk.  He  sat  perfectly  happy, 
looking  with  love  and  longing  at  his  father,  who 
began,  oddly  enough,  to  seem  very,  very  far  off. 

"  Asleep,  are  you,  already  ?  "  somebody  said  to 
him ;  and,  strange  to  relate,  it  was  his  father,  who, 
instead  of  dwindling  at  the  end  of  a  long  lighted 
perspective,  was  here,  close  beside  him. 

"  Oh  no,  papa,"  Larry  replied  ;  "  not  asleep  at 
all." 

"  I  had  better  put  you  to  bed  at  once." 

"  Oh  no,  I  'm  wide  awake,"  said  Larry  ;  then 
presently,  on  opening  his  eyes,  discovered  that  he 
was  in  his  father's  arms  and  that  they  were  both 
before  the  fire  in  the  library. 

"  Now  I  say,  sleepy  boy,"  Garthe  was  saying, 
"  how  should  you  like  it  if  you  had  a  mother  of 


GARTHE  AND  LARRY.  295 

your  own  sitting  just  there?  A  beautiful,  young 
mamma,  who  would  love  you,  —  love  you  dearly,  — 
call  you  her  own  little  boy  ?  " 

It  was  this  question  which  roused  Larry,  unglued 
his  eyelids,  and  released  him  from  the  spell  of  dim, 
fantastic  fancies. 

"Just  there  in  that  chair?"  he  asked,  turning 
and  staring  hard  at  the  spot. 

"  Yes,  just  there,  in  that  pretty  chair.  Do  you 
want  to  know  what  she  would  be  like  ?  She 
would  have  beautiful  dark  eyes  which  speak  without 
her  saying  a  word,  and  the  sweetest  smile  you  ever 
saw.  She  would  have  on  a  pretty  gown,  —  a  gown 
you  would  never  tire  of  looking  at  and  admiring. 
There  would  be  rings  on  the  fingers  of  her  soft 
white  hands.  She  would  hold  out  her  arms  to  you ; 
you  would  run  and  jump  into  her  lap.  She  would 
put  her  cheek  against  yours,  and  let  you  nestle 
against  her  shoulder  and  go  to  sleep  if  you  chose." 

"  Oh,  papa,"  said  Larry,  blushing  and  dimpling, 
"  I  should  be  wide  awake.  I  should  n't  want  to  go 
to  sleep." 

"  You  would  like  it,  then,  having  a  dear  mamma 
there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  much,"  said  Larry.  "  Would  she  really 
be  my  mother  ?  I  thought  I  had  n't  got  any 
mother." 

"  God  is  good,"  said  Garthe  devoutly.  "  He 
gives  us  what  we  need.  I  have  been  a  solitary 
man,  —  you  have  been  a  lonely  little  boy.  He  is 


296        THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

going  to  make  it  up  to  us.  You  will  be  a  good  son 
to  this  dear  lady,  Larry?  You  will  be  obedient, 
loving,  anxious  to  please  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  papa,  I  will  give  her  everything  I  have  got 
in  the  world."  He  closed  his  eyes  the  better  to 
enumerate  his  riches  to  himself  with  which  he  was 
to  endow  her.  She  should  have  Fido,  Mou-mou, 
his  music-box,  his  animated  toys.  .  .  .  He  hears  a 
low  laugh,  and  experiences  a  gentle  pinch  on  his 
cheek.  He  is  quite  sure  he  is  not  asleep.  He  can 
hear  the  dear  familiar  voice,  he  can  feel  the  warm, 
gentle  hand  on  his  hair.  He  perceives,  as  in  a  golden 
mist,  a  whole  new  world  of  things,  and  feels  ecstati 
cally  happy.  The  voice  murmurs  and  murmurs  on. 
Somebody  is  laughing  again.  There  is  an  odd  sen 
sation  of  being  upborne.  The  air  is  cooler.  Is  he 
flying  ?  Has  he  somehow  found  wings  ?  Again  he 
nestles  close  against  something  soft  and  warm,  and 
feels  the  pressure  of  a  loving  cheek  against  his  own. 
A  hand  takes  his  so  tenderly  that  Larry  seizes  it  in 
both  his  and  carries  it  to  his  lips,  which  fasten  to  it 
drowsily  like  a  bee  to  a  flower.  Suddenly  he  is 
wide  awake.  "  Oh,  is  it  you,  papa  ?  "  he  asks  in 
credulously.  "  I  thought  perhaps  it  was  mamma." 

"  Not  yet,"  Garthe  replies,  laughing.  "  Such  a 
sleepy  boy !  Keep  awake  until  I  get  your  things 
off." 

"  It  was  n't  a  dream,  papa?"  Larry  murmurs, 
sitting  up,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  looking  round  his 
bedroom.  "  She  will  come." 


GAETHE  AND  LAEEY.  297 

"Yes,  please  God,  she  will  come." 

lie  huddles  into  his  nightgown.  His  father 
gathers  him  into  his  arms  and  clasps  him  passion 
ately. 

"  Oh,  I  love  you,  papa,"  the  little  fellow  says. 

"  Kneel  down  and  say,  '  Please,  dear  God,  bless 
papa,  bless  mamma,  make  me  a  good  boy.' " 

"  Please,  dear  God,  bless  papa,  bless  mamma, 
make  me  a  good  boy." 

"For  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  amen." 

"  For  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  amen." 

He  loves  his  father  and  this  blessed  encircling 
vision  of  a  beautiful  mother  so  dearly  that  his  eyes 
run  over.  Still  he  is  fast  asleep  on  his  knees. 
.  .  .  He  is  tumbling  into  his  bed,  again  very  wide 
awake.  It  occurs  to  him  suddenly  that  he  must 
have  his  Swiss  cow, —  that  one  that  moves  her  head 
and  tinkles  the  little  silver  bell  at  her  throat,  —  to 
go  to  sleep  with.  It  is,  indeed,  quite  essential,  for 
that  cow  never  likes  to  be  left  alone  all  night. 
Garthe  hunts  high,  hunts  low, —  finds  the  creature, 
and  tucks  it  into  a  corner  of  the  pillow. 

"  And  mamma  is  really  coming  ?  "  Larry  tries 
to  say,  but  the  effort  is  beyond  his  power.  He  feels 
kisses  on  his  brow,  on  his  temples,  on  his  lips,  and 
sinks  to  sleep  encompassed  and  infolded  in  a  con 
sciousness  of  some  great,  overwhelming  joy. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SUNDAY    EVENING. 

"  A  WOMAN  may  be  old,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner, 
"  a  woman  may  think  she  has  given  up  the  battle, 
but  her  instincts  are  indestructible.  She  is  still  a 
cat  when  she  sees  a  mouse." 

John  Marchmont  had  dropped  in  upon  Mrs. 
Challoner  on  this  same  Sunday  afternoon.  It  was 
usually  his  way  on  a  Sunday,  and  to-day,  contrary 
to  custom,  he  found  her  alone.  The  tide  had  set  in 
some  other  direction. 

"  Still  a  cat  if  you  see  a  mouse,"  he  observed 
meditatively. 

"  And  sometimes,"  Mrs.  Challoner  proceeded 
daringly,  pursuing  her  figure  of  speech,  "  I  have 
longed  to  be  a  real  Puss-in-Boots,  and  to  eat  up  a 
Marquis  of  Carabas.  Now  there  was  Ferdinand 
Hartley." 

"  Surely,  you  did  not  put  an  end  to  him  ?  " 
"  No,  he  apparently  finished  himself." 
"  Who  is  it  you  are  longing  to  devour  now?  " 
"  The  fault  of  metaphors  is  that  they  mix  them 
selves  up,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner,  who  sat,  easy,  well- 
dressed,  smiling,  in  her   favorite   chair,  with  her 
favorite   belongings   around   her.       She    had    for 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  299 

months  been  desirous  of  a  chance  to  meddle  in  the 
destinies  of  certain  people,  feeling  sure  that  she, 
better  than  others,  could  set  things  right,  smooth 
out  the  tangled  skein.  "  What  I  mean,"  she  now 
proceeded,  "  is  that  I  am  apt  to  feel  murderous 
when  I  have  a  favorite  object  in  view." 

u  What  is  your  present  favorite  object  ?  "  he  in 
quired. 

"  To  begin  with,  I  want  to  see  you  married." 

"  I  married !  me  married  !  "  he  repeated  as  if  in 
credulous. 

"Well,  why  not?" 

"I  have  lived  fifty-six  years  without  a  wife. 
Few  and  troubled  are  the  years  which  lie  between 
me  and  my  grave." 

"  Nonsense.    There  is  a  duty  in  these  matters." 

"  Of  course  I  ought  to  have  married  thirty  years 
ago." 

"  I  do  not  say  that  at  all.  I  am  not  looking  up 
past,  but  present  and  future  duties.  I  'm  rather 
glad,  in  point  of  fact,  that  you  did  not  marry  thirty 
years  ago.  Your  wife  would  have  been  a  contem 
porary  of  mine.  Perhaps,  I  should  not  have  liked 
her.  Perhaps,  as  a  married  man  and  father  of  a 
family,  I  should  not  have  liked  you." 

"  Exactly.  It  is  not  in  my  line.  I  have  had  a 
conscience  in  the  matter,  and  have  given  every 
woman  a  chance  to  get  a  better  husband  than  I  could 
have  made  her." 

"Do  not  say  such  things.     I  hate  modesty;  I 


300      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

hate  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  It  is  paraded  as 
a  virtue,  but  all  it  does  is  to  foster  selfishness  and 
conceit  in  other  people.  If  a  man  is  modest  he  had 
better  keep  it  to  himself.  The  world  is  apt  to  con 
sider  that  he  has,  no  doubt,  good  grounds  for 
speaking  ill  of  himself." 

"  Anything  to  please  you ;  I  will  turn  egoist 
at  once." 

"  First,  I  want  you  to  marry." 

"  Whom  shall  I  marry,  pray  ?  " 

"  There  is  Constance  Garner,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Challoner,  with  the  cunning  of  the  serpent. 

"  Constance  Garner  ?  She  is  like  my  own  child." 

"  Well,  Kathy,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Challoner  in  a 
wheedling  tone. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  rather  absurd  for  a  gray-headed 
old  fellow  to  fancy  that  a  young  and  blooming 
creature  was  meant  for  his  consolation  ?  " 

"  Nonsense.  I  was  telling  Mr.  Challoner  this 
morning  that  of  all  the  men  I  know  you  seemed 
best  calculated  to  make  a  woman  happy." 

Mr.  Marchmont  chuckled.  "What  did  Chal 
loner  say  to  that?" 

"  He  said  he  was  sorry  for  me,  but  as  he  had,  so 
far  as  he  was  aware,  no  mortal  disease,  some 
tragical  event  seemed  to  be  necessary.  However, 
I  assured  him  that  I  was  disinterested,  —  that  what 
I  wished  was  to  insure  not  my  own  happiness  but 
that  of  the  woman  you  were  in  love  with." 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  am  in  love  with  any 
body?"  said  Mr.  Marchmont,  blushing  rosy  red. 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  301 

"  Because  you  show  it,  whether  you  stand,  walk, 
sit,  eat,  drink,  talk,  or  are  silent.  You  can't  get 
outside  yourself.  I  used  to  look  forward  to  seeing 
you,  —  to  refreshing  myself  from  your  overflow. 
Now  you  are  the  slave  of  one  idea.  When  a  man 
loves  a  woman  with  delicacy,  with  tenderness,  with 
adoration,  he  loves  stupidly." 

"  I  admit  the  stupidity." 

"  Then,  being  in  love  stupidly,  there  is  the  neces 
sity  of  being  jealous." 

"  I  admit  also  the  necessity  of  being  jealous." 

"  When  there  is  nobody  to  be  jealous  of  ?  " 

"  Nobody  to  be  jealous  of !  You  do  not  under 
stand  the  situation." 

"  I  used  to  fancy  you  were  jealous  of  Ferdinand 
Hartley,  but  I  told  you  he  was  not  in  love  with 
her.  The  moment  he  saw  that  rich  Western 
widow  he  no  longer  had  a  thought  of  Kathy.  Who 
else  is  there  ?  Of  course  there  are  Teddy  Frost  and 
Jack  Challoner,  but  they  are  like  half  a  dozen 
others,  mere  walking  men." 

"  How  about  Lawrence  Garthe?" 

"  He  is  in  love  with  Constance." 

"  But  if  Constance  gives  him  up  to  her  step 
mother,  if  Kathleen  herself  fancies  him  " 

"  Mr.  Garthe  is  in  love  with  Constance,  I  say." 

"  And  Constance  is  well  worth  being  in  love 
with  ;  but  Kathleen  is  so  much  more  charming." 

Mrs.  Challoner's  eyes  danced. 

"But  I  insist  on  having  Mr.  Garthe  for  Con- 


302      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

stance,  and  I  want  you  for  Kathy.  Why  do  you 
not  speak  out  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  eagerness. 

"  Ought  I  to  speak  ?  "   he  asked. 

"  Of  course  you  ought  to  speak." 

"  At  the  risk  of  robbing  her  of  the  chance  to  fall 
in  love  with  somebody  else  ?  " 

"  Accept  all  risks,  and  act  for  yourself." 

"  I  am  so  much  older  !  " 

"  You  are  just  so  much  wiser." 

"  I  doubt  that,  and  youth  is  for  youth." 

"  What  is  youth  ?  You  are  a  century  younger 
than  the  cold,  dull,  cynical  young  fellows  of  to-day. 
Everybody  who  knows  you  feels  stimulated  and 
stirred  up  after  a  talk  with  you.  Besides,  you  are 
an  artist,  and  to  have  an  art  is  to  be  always  young." 

"  You  cannot  make  me  the  dupe  of  my  own  illu 
sions.  I  am  too  old  for  her." 

"  You  could  not  be  the  man  you  are  unless  you 
had  lived  just  so  long  and  just  so  deeply,  and  had 
come  to  just  this  culmination  of  experience.  There 
may  be  drawbacks,  but  in  how  many  marriages  do 
you  find  absolutely  perfect  conditions?  At  all 
events,  let  Kathy  understand  you,  —  let  her  know 
that  you  care  for  her.  Silence  is  the  crudest  thing 
in  the  world,  and  the  realm  of  unavoidable  silence — 
silence  which  nothing  can  break  —  is  large  enough 
without  adding  to  it  the  silence  which  results  from 
our  own  doubt,  our  own  indecision,  our  own  timid 
ity.  Life  is  so  short !  The  end  of  all  things  conies 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  303 

so  soon,  —  soonest  of  all,  the  end  of  our  dearest 
things." 

Mrs.  Challoner  had  possibly  taken  advantage  of 
the  fact  that  other  visitors  were  entering,  to  speak 
with  some  solemnity.  It  was  like  a  dismissal,  like 
a  benediction,  and  John  Marchmont  accepted  it 
with  a  bent  head  and  went  out.  He  had  great 
faith  in  Mrs.  Challoner,  not  only  in  her  friend 
ship  but  in  her  knowledge  of  the  world.  She  was 
not  a  woman  to  dogmatize  upon  any  subject,  but 
possessed  by  nature  a  just  and  accurate  sense  of 
people  and  events,  gauging  them  with  prompt  deci 
sion,  which  enabled  her  to  be  a  touchstone  for  a 
nature  like  John  Marchmont's,  invariably  halting 
a  little  before  pushing  his  own  claims,  feeling  that 
no  man  can  tell  what  having  his  own  will  and  way 
may  do  to  the  injury  of  mankind. 

He  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  at  his  sister's, 
meditating  upon  what  he  had  heard.  He  honestly 
desired  for  Kathy  the  best  that  could  happen  to 
her,  and  possibly  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  her  was  to  marry  himself.  Had  he  not  a  house 
and  lands,  a  comfortable  property,  and  did  not  his 
pictures  sell  ?  Was  not  Kathy  poor,  while  at  the 
same  time  did  she  not  take  delight  in  the  ample, 
the  magnificent,  in  the  easy  way  in  which  money 
may  make  material  means  subordinate  to  ends ! 
Not  that  he  was  rich  enough  to  make  it  worth  a 
woman's  while  to  marry  him  for  money,  but  he 
was  inclined  to  dwell  a  little  on  some  clear  advan- 


304      TUE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

tage  to  be  gained  by  Kathy  in  becoming  Mrs.  John 
Marchmont,  for  he  abhorred  the  idea  of  her  accept 
ing  him  out  of  sympathy.  He  had  habitually 
shown  her  his  coldest  side.  He  could,  he  believed, 
consistently  thank  Heaven  that  he  had  softened  no 
roughness  in  himself,  enhanced  no  values,  invested 
himself  with  no  glamour.  She  knew  him  at  his 
worst.  If  he  were  now  to  change  his  role  from  that 
of  a  disinterested  friend  he  must  convince  her  by 
demonstration  that  as  a  lover  he  was  quite  another 
thing,  could  give  points  to  Benedict,  out-Romeo 
Romeo  ;  that,  Methuselah  as  he  was,  he  yet  re 
sembled  one  of  those  marvelous  casks  which  jug 
glers  handle,  out  of  which  every  variety  of  generous 
wine  can  be  drawn  at  will. 

He  was  in  a  genial  after-dinner  mood,  when  at 
half-past  eight  he  went  down  the  steps  of  his  sis 
ter's  house,  and  encountered  Lawrence  Garthe 
coming  up. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  said  the  latter.  "  I  felt 
inclined  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"  I  will  go  back,  —  or  on  to  my  studio,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Marchmont. 

"  Had  you  any  engagement?  " 

"I  was  simply  going  to  the  Garners',  where  I 
always  spend  my  Sunday  evenings." 

"  We  can  walk  on  together.  I  started  with  the 
intention  of  going  there.  Then  suddenly  the  idea 
occurred  to  me  that  I  should  like  to  talk  over  cer 
tain  matters  with  you." 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  305 

He  stopped  short  on  the  curbstone. 

"  I  detest  talking  about  myself,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  know  myself,  but  nobody  else  knows  me." 

"  Count  me  as  a  sure  friend,"  said  John  March- 
mont  warmly. 

"  You  remember  my  introduction  to  Mrs.  Gar 
ner  and  her  daughter,"  Garthe  went  on,  plunging 
into  his  subject.  "  You  recall  how  it  happened 
that  I  was  invited  to  their  house.  Ferdinand 
Hartley  had  spoken  of  taking  me  there,  but  I  had 
declined.  With  premeditation,  by  any  exercise  of 
my  own  will,  I  should  not  have  consented  at  first. 
I  had  simply  given  up  society ;  it  had  seemed  better 
to  do  so.  But  everything  at  first  seemed  accidental, 
then  it  seemed  inevitable  ;  it  had  come  about  with 
out  my  own  intention.  I  had  been  blind  to  the 
significance  of  the  first  event,  and  after  that,  I  was 
interested,  absorbed,  carried  along,  in  spite  of  my 
self.  Before  I  knew  it  I  was  in  love.  As  soon  as 
I  realized  that  I  was  in  love  I  might,  it  is  true, 
have  drawn  back ;  but  —  after  all,  there  was  the 
chance.  Now,  Mr.  Marchmont,  I  want  to  tell  you, 
man  to  man,  just  how  I  stand.  You  are  her  friend, 
—  you  were  her  father's  friend ;  you  can  judge  for 
her." 

They  still  stood  on  the  curbstone  with  the  light 
of  the  great  electric  moon  above  full  on  their  faces. 
Garthe  dashed  into  his  subject,  as  if  conscious  that 
only  by  a  fierce  plunge  could  he  be  free  of  the  shud 
dering  horror  of  making  the  revelation.  After  he 


306      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

had  seen  Mr.  Marchmont  give  a  start  of  surprise, 
heard  him  utter  an  exclamation,  —  perhaps  of  aston 
ishment,  perhaps  of  indignation,  —  he  was  at  least 
free  to  go  on  ;  he  had  told  the  worst  he  could  tell  of 
himself,  and  now  that  it  was  uttered  he  experienced 
a  sensation  of  relief.  Yet  a  sharp  instinct  of  anx 
iety  made  him  see  something  in  John  Marchmont's 
face  to  give  him  alarm. 

"  I  want  all  the  facts,"  said  the  older  man  briefly. 

Garthe  obeyed.  Even  with  the  statement  that  his 
wife  had  been  guilty  towards  him,  that  she  had 
deserted  her  helpless  child,  he  was  not  hard.  He 
did  not  feel  that  he  had  the  right.  He  had  been 
always  conscious  of  a  fatal  weakness  in  himself,  of 
haste,  of  impatience,  of  possible  harshness,  which 
had  caused  open  revolt.  He  had  not,  he  had  gone 
on  feeling  all  these  years,  sufficiently  measured  the 
temptations  to  which  he  had  left  his  wife,  little 
more  than  a  child,  exposed.  His  own  shuddering 
horror  of  her  early  surroundings  had  made  him 
blind  to  their  possible  attractions  for  her.  He  jus 
tified  himself  in  nothing ;  he  made  few  accusations ; 
rather  he  seemed  too  full  of  pity,  almost  of  tender 
ness,  to  inflict  a  possible  wound.  He  tried  to 
gather  his  answer  from  John  Marchmont's  eyes, 
but  each  time  their  glances  encountered  he  was 
conscious  of  a  sort  of  reproach  in  them. 

"  Does  Constance  know  ?  "  asked  the  artist,  as 
Garthe  paused. 

"No." 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  307 

"  Yet  you  have  spoken  to  her  of  your  "  — 

"  I  have  told  her  I  loved  her ;  I  have  told  her 
that  I  wished  to  make  her  my  wife.  I  have  told 
her,  too,  that  I  had  a  painful  history." 

"  A  very  painful  history.  I  wish  you  had  begun 
by  confessing  it  clearly." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Garthe  in  a  bitter  whisper. 

"  However,"  pursued  John  Marchmont,  "  I  have 
entire  sympathy  for  you  in  your  reserve." 

Garthe  clutched  his  arm. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  he  exclaimed  vehemently. 
"  Do  you  consider  that  this  —  this  accursed  thing 
in  my  life  —  separates  her  from  me  ?  " 

"No,"  said  John  Marchmont.  "No;  tell  her 
what  you  have  told  me,  and  if  she  really  cares  for 
you —  He  broke  off.  "Let  us  go  on,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  pause.  "  It  is  cold  here,  and  we 
have  been  standing  still  too  long.  We  will  go  there 
together." 

Garthe  had  not  released  his  companion's  arm, 
and,  linked  together,  they  walked  on. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  tell  her,  —  but  I  have  put  it 
off.  I  have  thought  of  writing  it,  but  I  wished  to 
see  her  face  when  she  heard  the  story.  Then,  too, 
before  I  made  any  sort  of  plea  to  her  for  sympa 
thy,  before  I  put  clearly  before  her  just  the  sacrifice 
she  would  be  compelled  to  make  in  marrying  me,  I 
longed  to  know  just  how  much  of  a  sacrifice  it  was, 
whether  it  would  be  too  costly,  —  whether  my  story, 
if  known,  could  tarnish  her  in  the  world's  eye." 


308      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

" Tarnish  her?     No !  "  cried  John  Marchmont. 

u  I  have  had  to  live  with  it,"  pursued  Garthe.  "  I 
have  felt  the  sting  of  it,  —  and  I  have  dreaded  it 
for  her.  I  suppose  it  is  that  which  gagged  me. 
Then,  too,  it  has  all  been  very  brief,  very  hurried. 
I  —  "'  They  had  reached  the  house  in  Lexing 
ton  Avenue.  Garthe  put  his  hand  a  moment 
heavily  on  his  companion's,  as  they  went  up  the 
steps  together.  "  I  can't  tell  you  what  a  relief  it 
is,"  he  burst  out  suddenly,  u  to  have  you  under 
stand.  I  owed  the  explanation  to  her ;  I  owed  it  to 
Mrs.  Garner ;  I  owed  it  to  everybody  who  cares  for 
her,  but  I  shrank  from  it.  Tell  me  once,  in  so  many 
words,  on  your  conscience,  on  your  honor,  have  I  or 
have  I  not,  the  right  to  go  in  and  sit  beside  her  ?  " 

"  You  have  every  right,"  said  John  Marchmont, 
moved  by  Garthe's  look,  tone,  and  impetuous,  boyish 
movement. 

"  To  tell  her  that  I  want  her  for  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  one  cannot  but  wish  it  had  been  different, 
—  one  cannot  reason  away  subtle  likes  and  dislikes. 
They  belong  to  the  grain  of  a  man's  mind.  They 
are  a  matter  of  taste,  of  prepossession,  of  prejudice, 
—  yet  one  knows  it  is  only  a  matter  of  taste,  pre 
possession  and  prejudice.  Frankly,  I  wish  you  had 
not  been  married  at  all,  even  happily ;  but  that  is 
an  impracticable  wish.  As  it  is,  I  consider  that  you 
have  been  horribly  wronged,  and  with  all  my  heart 
I  shall  be  glad  to  see  a  good,  sweet  girl  make  up  to 
you  for  what  you  have  lost." 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  309 

"And  that  is  final?"  said  Garthe. 

"  That  is  final." 

They  went  in  together.  Not  only  in  Garthe,  but 
in  John  Marchniont  as  well,  a  change  was  percepti 
ble.  Each  man  seemed  to  see  his  way  made  clear ; 
each  was  conscious  of  a  joyous  change  which  set  him 
free.  John  Marchniont  was  at  last  convinced  that 
Garthe  was  certainly  no  rival  of  his.  What  Garthe 
experienced  was  a  different  sensation  of  relief,  — 
almost  resembling  that  of  an  innocent  man  who 
has  been  in  danger  of  being  committed  for  a  crime 
but  is  suddenly  proved  to  be  not  only  guiltless  but 
himself  the  injured  person.  He  had  hardly  known 
until  this  moment  how  he  had  hated  the  thought  of 
the  dogging  shadow  on  his  life,  the  shadow  which 
might  at  any  moment,  like  that  of  the  released 
genie,  take  increasing  size  and  blacken  his  whole 
universe.  Yesterday,  an  hour  ago,  inseparable 
from  the  thought  of  Constance,  had  come  this 
menace.  Even  while  he  had  been  almost  fiercely 
ready  to  vindicate  his  own  attitude,  he  had  been 
tortured  by  scruples,  by  a  dread  of  the  world's 
sharp  strictures. 

Yet  never  was  opportunity  less  propitious  for  a 
pair  of  lovers.  Instead  of  finding  Kathy  and  Con 
stance  sitting  cosily  by  the  fire,  hoping  some  one 
would  come  and  lighten  the  burden  of  the  long, 
dull  evening,  there  was,  by  chance,  a  room  full  of 
people.  In  spite  of  each  of  the  two  men  being  pos 
sessed  by  his  own  idea,  —  each  feeling  himself  at  a 


310      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

supreme  moment  of  his  destiny,  each  was  compelled 
to  sit  down  and  discuss  indifferent  subjects ;  John 
Marchmont,  by  some  irony  of  fate,  falling  to  the 
share  of  a  pretty  girl  vastly  taken  with  art,  who 
unhesitatingly  demanded  his  opinion  of  certain 
pictures  in  a  new  exhibition. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  -    -?" 

"  Excellent  upholstery." 

"  But  so  much  color,  —  such  beautiful  textures." 

"  Precisely  ;  you  know  exactly  what  they  are,  — 
silks,  satins,  and  velvets,  and  how  much  they  cost 
a  yard ;  I  never  saw  anything  more  admirably 
clear." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  in  earnest." 

"  I  am  profoundly  in  earnest." 

" 1  fancy  that  you  are  an  impressionist." 

"  Very  likely  that  is  it." 

"  I  myself  do  not  like  too  much  everyday 
realism,  —  pictures  made  up  of  infinite  brush 
strokes,  touched  and  retouched ;  it  may  be  con 
scientious  work,  but  I  call  the  effect  tedious." 

"  c  Tedious  '  is  good,  —  4  tedious  '  is  very  good 
indeed." 

"  I  like  the  vague  tenderness  of  Browne's  can 
vases." 

"  I  called  it  tender  vagueness,  but  we  both  love 
the  same  thing,  no  doubt." 

"  Such  extraordinary  juggling  with  effect  of 
color  and  light." 

"  Extraordinary  juggling,  indeed !  "    said   John 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  311 

Marchmont,  who  was  looking  at  Kathleen,  and 
straining  his  ears  to  hear  what  she  was  saying  to  a 
stranger  whose  name  he  had  not  caught,  but  in  whom 
she  seemed  engrossed  to  a  degree  which  reduced  him 
to  despondency.  He  had  believed  momentarily  that 
since  Garthe  was  devoted  to  Constance,  he  had  no 
rival ;  but  here  was  another ;  a  man  sufficiently 
young  and  good-looking,  who  gazed  at  Kathy  with 
admiring  affection,  while  she  treated  him  to  her 
prettiest  glances  and  ways,  —  just  those  endearing, 
womanly  ways  which  he  had  seen  her  use  with 
Bernard  Garner,  and  which  were  the  spontaneous 
outcome  of  real  affection,  real  tenderness.  Fresh 
doubts,  jealousies,  torments,  scruples,  honeycombed 
John  Marchmont's  peace  of  mind,  and  he  was 
further  than  ever  from  any  mood  of  belief,  hope,  or 
resolution. 

Garthe's  experience  was  of  a  different  order. 
On  seeing  him  Constance  had  risen,  given  him  her 
hand ;  their  eyes  had  met  once,  and  he  had  dis 
covered  in  them  a  half  mischievous  light,  and  in  the 
smile  which  played  about  her  lips  he  discerned  also 
hidden  amusement,  a  childlike,  naive  sense  of  a 
secret  between  them.  Thus,  even  when  she  ad 
dressed  him  with  formality,  introduced  him  to  an 
elderly  lady  and  to  a  military-looking  man,  who, 
evidently  tired  oi  each  other,  turned  to  him  on  the 
instant  with  some  relief,  Garthe  felt  more  than 
ever  that  there  was  a  bond  between  them  of  entire 
comprehension  and  sympathy.  He  at  once  sat  down, 


312       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GAETHE. 

began  to  talk  and  listen  to  his  new  acquaintances, 
not  looking  at  Constance,  but  conscious  that 
she  often  glanced  at  him  sweetly  and  confidingly, 
that  she  observed  all  that  he  said,  —  smiled,  and 
once  laughed  outright.  Never  had  he  felt  so  sure 
of  her  regard  for  him  as  to-night :  there  was  joy, 
almost  pride,  in  her  eyes,  in  her  smile,  in  the  tone 
of  her  voice. 

He  perceived  after  a  time  that  some  of  the  group 
were  guests  who  were  staying  in  the  house ;  hence 
it  would  be  impossible  to  outsit  them  :  the  mo 
ment  of  explanation  must  again  be  postponed. 

But,  surer  of  himself  to-night,  he  schemed  a  little 
for  a  chance  of  exchanging  one  word.  He  saw  her 
rise,  cross  the  room  for  an  album  of  photographs, 
and  in  a  moment  he  was  at  her  side. 

"  Must  I  go  away  without  a  word  with  you  ?  "  he 
whispered  as  he  reached  down  for  the  book. 

"  Is  not  this  a  word  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  you  to-night.  Shall 
you  be  alone  to-morrow  evening?  I  wish  particu 
larly  to  see  you." 

44  Kathy  will  be  here." 

"  Constance ! " 

"Well?" 

"  Say  that  you  will  go  upstairs  and  find  the  book, 
for  it  is  not  here.  Then  go  into  the  little  reception- 
room.  I  must  say  a  word  to  you." 

"  The  book  is  not  here,  but  how  can  I "  — 

4k  No  matter  how,  —  go  back,  I  will  follow.     1 


SUNDAY  EVENING.  313 

will  take  leave ;  then  in  a  moment,  —  you  will  be  in 
the  reception-room  ?  " 

She  said  nothing,  but  her  glance  told  him  that 
she  consented.  She  turned  from  him  —  went  out ; 
he  approached  Mrs.  Garner,  bade  her  good 
night,  bowed  to  the  circle,  shook  hands  with  his 
former  companions,  gained  the  hall,  then  found  to 
his  dismay  that  John  Marchmont  was  following 
upon  his  steps. 

"  Oh,  you  are  going  also,"  Garthe  exclaimed. 

"Why  not?  It's  past  half -past  ten,"  said  Mr. 
Marchmont,  disconsolate,  rather  irritable,  and  alto 
gether  worn  out.  "  Come  on." 

"  In  one  instant,"  said  Garthe  in  a  low  voice,  and 
he  turned  into  the  reception-room,  where  Constance 
stood,  her  cheeks  aflame. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  "  she  murmured.  "  Never 
should  I  have  dreamed  I  could  do  such  a  thing ! " 

He  gazed  at  her,  absolutely  entranced  by  her 
beauty. 

"  But  I  had  to  see  you ;  how  could  I  go  away 
without  having  even  met  your  eyes  ?  Look  at  me, 
look  at  me,  Constance,"  for  her  glance  had  fallen 
before  his. 

She  raised  them  as  he  insisted. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  everything,"  he  murmured. 
"  I  had  told  Mr.  Marchmont  "  — 

"  Not  to-night,"  she  said,  and  looked  at  him  with 
love  in  her  eyes. 

"  But  I  must  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  said  passion- 


314      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

ately,  "  that  I  love  you, —  that  I  ask  you  to  give  me 
peace,  —  the  peace  I  can  never  feel  again  until  you 
and  I  are  one ;  at  least  until  you  show  me  that  you, 
too,  love  me." 

He  was  clasping  her,  her  face  was  upturned ; 
their  eyes  met, —  then,  as  his  words  ceased,  their 
lips ;  for  his,  like  flame,  had  leaped  to  what  they 
coveted. 

"  Did  I  keep  you  too  long  ?  "  Garthe  asked 
John  Marchinont  in  another  moment. 

"  An  eternity,"  replied  the  artist.  He  uttered,  as 
they  emerged  from  the  house,  a  sort  of  groan. 
"  Oh,  youth,  youth ! "  he  said,  two  or  three  times 
over,  on  their  way  home.  Garthe  could  extract 
from  him  no  other  syllable* 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LARRY   HAS   A   VISITOR. 

THE  note  of  expectation  which  Garthe  had 
struck  sounded  all  night  through  Larry's  dreams. 
A  vision  of  something  undefined,  yet  brightening 
and  warming  his  world,  shone  for  him  on  waking, 
like  the  sun  behind  a  luminous  mist. 

"  Don't  talk  about  it  this  morning,  Larry,"  his 
father  returned,  in  answer  to  his  questions  and  his 
prattle.  "  Wait  a  little." 

For  Garthe  could  not  put  his  feelings  into 
words  to-day.  He  was  separated  from  his  bliss 
of  the  night  before  by  a  dream;  a  terrible  —  to 
him  at  this  moment  a  shameful  —  dream ;  a  dream 
which  had  made  him  hide  his  eyes  from  the  day 
with  a  feeling  as  of  moral  degradation.  He  had 
gone  to  bed  happy  and  light  at  heart.  That  kiss, 
which  had  had  all  the  clinging,  the  intensity  of  pas 
sion,  had  yet  satisfied  a  hunger,  a  yearning  which 
belonged  to  the  soul  more  than  the  senses.  It  was 
the  expression  of  what  lay  vibrating  in  the  man's 
inmost  heart  and  met  its  full  response.  No  more 
than  that  embrace  had  been  necessary  to  show 
Garthe  that  Constance  was  his  own,  his  very  own. 
It  would  not  have  been  possible  for  any  man  to  be 


316      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GsiRTHE. 

moved  by  a  more  pure  and  exquisite  feeling  of 
happiness  than  he  had  felt,  as  he  sank  into  sleep. 
Later  came  the  dream. 

He  had  still  been  thinking  of  Constance,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  awaiting  her.  His  impressions  of  the 
time,  the  scene,  the  occasion,  were  hazy  and 
confused,  yet  he  was  expecting  her ;  and  when  he 
discerned  a  figure  approaching  it  was  his  in 
stinct  joyfully  to  advance  and  meet  it ;  but  a 
paralysis  weighed  upon  him ;  his  limbs  seemed  to 
be  held  in  an  iron  grip.  "  Come,  come,"  he  cried 
eagerly,  "  you  can  reach  me  although  I  am  bound 
in  chains."  A  voice  answered,  "  I  am  coming." 
At  the  sound  of  this  voice  he  experienced  a  sharp 
disappointment.  It  was  not  the  voice  of  Con 
stance.  Still  it  was  a  familiar  voice,  and  as  it 
vibrated  in  his  ear  a  new  world  of  images  seemed 
to  rise,  and,  as  in  a  transformation  scene,  the  wan 
ing  and  waxing  shapes  mingled  for  a  moment  in 
half  confusion,  then  the  old  faded  into  the  back 
ground  and  dissolved.  Along  with  this  new  set  of 
impressions  came  a  strange  perplexity  and  pain. 
"  Is  it  you,  then,  Bella  ?  "  he  asked.  For  although 
his  sense  told  him  the  presence  was  approaching 
closer  and  closer,  he  could  distinguish  no  person 
ality  ;  it  seemed  as  it  loomed  up  to  make  him 
more  hopelessly  in  doubt.  It  was  beside  him,  it 
touched  him  ;  he  became  conscious  of  a  convulsion, 
a  passionate  pressure,  and  along  with  this  con 
sciousness  of  an  ever  multiplying  horror  and  sting 


LARRY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  317 

of  trouble  and  of  shame  came  a  trembling  joy. 
"  I  thought,"  he  said  to  her  as  she  enfolded  him, 
"  that  you  were  not  my  wife  any  longer."  With 
some  fresh  throbbing  shock  of  presentiment,  he 
tried  to  push  her  from  him,  but  could  not.  Even 
with  the  feeling  that  there  was  some  impediment, 
even  while  he  experienced  a  cold  nightmare  of 
dislike  and  dread,  the  constraint  of  her  passion 
was  upon  him,  —  her  lips  sought  his,  her  heart 
rested  against  his.  He  awoke  to  hate  himself  ;  to 
feel  that  life  on  such  terms  was  become  an  oppres 
sion,  a  menace.  He  slept  no  more,  —  instead,  lay 
awake  thinking  of  that  hideous  phantom  of  the 
night. 

"  If  only  I  might  hear  that  she  was  dead,"  he 
said  to  himself  more  than  once.  "  One  or  the 
other  of  us  needs  to  die.  The  earth  is  not  wide 
enough  for  both  of  us." 

Thus,  although  he  gradually  regained  his  equi 
librium  and  strength  of  nerve,  he  was  scarcely  in 
a  mood  to  respond  to  Larry's  questions,  and  was 
almost  ready  to  blame  himself  for  having  roused 
these  expectations  in  the  boy,  since  cravings  for 
happiness  must  be  a  torment  until  they  are  ful 
filled. 

Larry,  however,  missed  nothing.  He  carried 
his  new  hopes  blithely,  yet  with  a  proud  swelling 
of  the  heart,  at  times  conscious  of  a  warm  heady 
feeling  about  his  eyes  which  made  him  ready  to 
laugh  or  to  cry.  Once,  while  he  was  at  his  lessons, 


318      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE, 

he  suddenly  looked  up,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling, 
and  smiled. 

"Why  do  you  smile?'*  asked  the  little  gov 
erness  to  whom  he  went  each  day  from  nine  until 
twelve. 

"  Oh,  I  was  just  thinking." 

"  But  this  is  not  the  time  for  thinking ;  you  are 
having  a  lesson  on  the  maps." 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  to-day." 

"  How  is  that?     Has  anything  happened?" 

"  No,  but  something  is  going  to  happen." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  roguishly. 

"  It  is  n't  going  to  happen  to  anybody  else,  — 
only  to  me,"  he  said.  And  again  he  smiled. 

He  confided  the  secret  to  Amelia,  however,  who 
understood  how  to  press  one  question  upon  another 
until  she  gained  her  object.  Her  suspicions, 
indeed,  in  this  direction  were  always  alert.  She 
had  always,  she  said,  known  that  it  must  happen 
sooner  or  later ;  one  could  predict  nothing  else  of 
a  fine-looking  young  gentleman  like  Mr.  Garthe, 
and  of  late  there  had  been  signs,  clear  signs,  that 
a  change  was  at  hand.  Amelia  had  known,  she 
observed  weightily,  a  few  changes  for  the  better 
and  many,  alas,  for  the  worse.  Naturally,  she 
remembered  her  own  good  services  to  master  and 
boy,  and  reflected  that  there  might  be  a  falling 
off ;  but  if  the  master  was  pleased  and  Larry  was 
pleaiied  and  God  willed  it,  why,  who  could  speak  a 


LABBY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  319 

word  against  it,  and  she  would  not  predict  evil. 
For  Amelia  had  not  the  heart  to  diminish  any  of 
Larry's  hopes. 

The  afternoon  was  cold  and  dark ;  now  and 
then  flakes  of  snow  fell.  The  boy  could  not  stay 
out  of  doors  in  such  weather,  and  he  wandered 
aimlessly  about  the  rooms. 

"  She  is  to  sit  there.  Papa  said  so,"  he  ob 
served  to  Amelia,  indicating  the  pretty  blue  silk 
chair  before  the  fire.  He  tried  the  springs,  nes 
tling  against  the  cushions  lovingly.  The  woman 
could  see  in  the  boy's  eyes  a  coming  and  going  of 
new  and  happy  thoughts.  His  lips  smiled,  little 
dimples  played  in  his  cheeks  and  chin ;  his  deep 
gaze,  however,  had  something  in  it  poignant  and 
touching.  He  was  cradled  in  a  dream  which  was 
not  of  any  past  experience.  Yesterday  he  had 
comprehended  nothing  of  any  need  which  his  father 
could  not  answer.  To-day,  nevertheless,  he  had  a 
hundred  sweet  pensive  little  ideas  about  a  mother. 
He  almost  felt  that  he  must  cry,  but  burst  out 
laughing  instead. 

"  Where  will  she  sit  at  table  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  opposite  your  papa,  of  course.  You  will 
be  between  them." 

Larry  went  into  the  dining-room  and  stood  for  a 
time  pondering  this  new  phase  of  the  delightful 
mystery.  Amelia,  watching  the  light  in  his  eyes, 
his  face  alternately  flushing  and  paling,  said  within 
herself  that  if  the  child  were  not  to  get  all  he 


320      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

hoped  for,  it  would  be  a  wicked  betrayal  of  con 
fidence. 

"  And  where  will  she  sleep  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  Hear  the  boy !  Oh,  everything  will  be  newly 
furnished  and  made  over  for  the  mistress,  no 
doubt.  I  dare  say  you  will  have  to  give  up  your 
playroom  and  come  to  the  third  story  hall-bed 
room.  You  '11  gain  in  some  ways,  no  doubt.  It 's 
an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good,  but 
you  're  sure  to  lose  something.  You  will  no 
longer  be  the  first  object." 

"  She  may  have  my  playroom,"  said  Larry  with 
a  swelling  heart.  "She  may  have  all  my  play 
things.  I  will  give  her  my  Swiss  cow." 

"  Oh,  she  's  sure  to  have  a  fine  time,  with  the 
master  pouring  out  money  like  water  before  her." 

Larry  did  not  hear  her.  This  duality  of  destiny 
of  which  he  was  suddenly  conscious  laid  its  obliga 
tion  upon  him.  He  took  immense  delight  in  the 
thought  of  his  possessions,  and  went  upstairs  to 
survey  them.  He  mentally  resigned  them,  retain 
ing  not  even  the  locomotive  engine,  tremulously 
handing  them  over  in  imagination  to  the  new 
claimant. 

"  I  wish  she  would  come  now,"  he  murmured  to 
himself. 

He  had  all  that  he  had  possessed  hitherto,  yet 
it  was  not  enough.  Even  the  Skye  and  the 
Angora  seemed  also  to  be  waiting  and  expecting 
something.  Fido  yawned,  whined,  and  stretched 


LARRY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  321 

himself ;  even  Mou-mou  was  uneasy.  All  three 
wandered  restlessly  about  the  house,  paying  visits 
to  Amelia,  into  whose  ears  Larry  poured  every 
fresh  fancy  and  surmise.  Now  and  then  he 
stopped  short  and  meditated ;  some  fresh  thought 
had  offered  itself,  and  perhaps  some  important 
question  had  to  be  decided  upon,  before  he  could 
even  speak  to  Fido,  who  at  such  moments  was  apt 
to  sit  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  put  up  his  front 
paws  and  beg.  At  such  times  Fido  had  a  very 
droll  air,  as  his  hair  was  sure  to  be  in  his  eyes, 
and  his  whole  aspect  imbecile  and  not  in  the  least 
like  that  of  a  sensible  dog.  The  Angora  was  never 
foolish  like  the  Skye  terrier  ;  even  if  she  shut  her 
eyes  entirely  she  looked  wiser  and  wiser. 

What  seemed  strange  to  Larry  was  that  he  had 
never  asked  his  father  to  do  this  wonderful  thing. 
He  had  known  that  his  father  was  in  the  secret  of 
everything,  could  do  anything  no  matter  how  mar 
velous,  and  yet  he  had  never  asked  it.  He  was 
glad  now  that  the  miracle  had  happened  without 
his  praying  for  it.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of  the 
illimitable  goodness  of  everybody.  He  experi 
enced  a  sense  of  exaltation. 

The  rooms  were  dull  and  dark.  He  went  to  the 
front  windows,  pushed  away  the  curtains,  and 
looked  out,  Fido  also  climbing  to  his  side  on  the 
window-seat.  The  tops  of  the  opposite  houses 
seemed  as  tall  as  the  sky,  for  there  was  no  real  sky 
to-day ;  above  the  roofs  the  strip  of  heaven  that 


322      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

showed  was  heavy  with  clouds,  dark  and  threaten 
ing.  The  few  people  who  hurried  along  on  foot 
bent  their  heads  dumbly  and  took  the  bleak  wind 
which  blew  from  river  to  river.  Now  and  then  a 
confectioner's  or  a  fish-monger's  cart  rattled  by, 
stopping  somewhere  within  view  to  leave  delica 
cies  for  some  of  the  neighbors'  dinners.  Larry's 
thoughts  varied  from  the  lofty  to  the  prosaic.  It 
occurred  to  his  mind  that  perhaps  when  the  new 
mamma  came  they  would  have  dainties  every  day. 
They  would  have  to  do  their  best  to  please  her, 
and  he  imagined  her  as  liking  sweets  as  much  as 
he  himself  did.  He  was  radiant  with  high  spirits. 
He  wished  he  could  talk  to  Fido  and  Mou-mou,  for 
Button  had  by  this  time  come  in  and  was  sitting 
before  the  kitchen  fire,  fast  asleep,  and  Amelia 
held  up  a  warning  finger  if  Larry  intruded. 

His  happiness  was  so  great,  however,  that  Amelia 
and  Button  could  not  add  to  it,  or  take  it  away.  He 
even  felt  magnanimous  when  he  saw  that  the  con 
fectioner  was  leaving  half  a  dozen  ice-cream  freezers 
at  Fred  Conover's  house.  Still,  as  Fred  might  not 
know  the  great  happiness  which  had  befallen  Larry 
himself,  he  might  be  thinking  that  he  was  a  lonely 
boy,  since  they  were  evidently  going  to  have  a 
party,  and  it/  was  a  pity  he  should  be  deceived. 

Closed  carriages  with  ladies  inside  passed  at  in 
tervals,  and  stopped  before  a  house  at  the  end  of  the 
block,  where  people  lived  who  gave  receptions  to 
their  friends  every  Monday.  Larry's  eyes  followed 


LAEEY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  323 

one  after  the  other,  expecting  to  see  them  all  stop 
at  the  same  door.  Presently,  however,  a  very 
pretty  stylish  coupe  with  one  horse  went  past  very 
slowly,  and  halted  a  little  way  beyond,  in  an  irreso 
lute  sort  of  fashion.  Apparently  the  driver  did  not 
know  exactly  where  he  was  to  go ;  but  there,  yes, 
he  had  started  his  horse  and  driven  on,  not  however, 
to  the  corner  house.  This  was  perplexing,  but  it  was 
something  to  think  about,  —  anything  would  do  to 
wonder  about,  since  nothing  was  to  happen  before 
his  father  came  home.  The  air  was  full  of  great 
flakes  of  snow.  He  tried  to  open  the  window  and 
put  out  his  hand  and  catch  one,  but  could  not 
undo  the  fastening.  He  was  standing  on  the  cush 
ions  of  the  window-seat,  when  he  saw  directly  in 
front  of  the  house  a  very  pretty  lady  looking  up. 
She  stood  quite  still ;  gazed  at  him,  put  up  her  veil, 
and  nodded  and  smiled.  Who  could  it  be  ?  For  a 
moment,  as  he  gazed  back  at  her,  he  quite  forgot 
all  that  had  been  in  his  mind  that  day.  Suddenly 
it  flashed  back  upon  him.  Could  it  be  she  ?  Had 
she  come?  His  papa  had  said  she  was  coming. 
This  lady  was  smiling  and  nodding.  There,  she 
beckoned,  went  nearer  the  steps  and  pointed  to  the 
door.  He  ran  into  the  hall,  eagerly  pushed  aside 
the  latch,  turned  the  knob,  and  opened  the  door,  al 
though  in  general  it  was  a  feat  beyond  his  strength. 
There  she  was,  on  the  threshold,  inside  the  vesti 
bule,  and  still  smiling  ;  a  very  grand  and  beautiful 
lady  dressed  in  velvet  and  fur  and  laces. 


324      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  very  soft 
voice,  coining  straight  up  to  the  threshold  and  look 
ing  at  him  earnestly. 

"  Lawrence  Courtenay  Garthe." 

She  took  the  little  rosy  face  between  her  two 
hands,  looked  down  at  him  with  a  laughing  glance, 
and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead,  the  eyes,  the  lips. 
Then  she  drew  back  and  gazed  at  him  a  moment  in 
silence.  He  had  grown  a  little  pale ;  his  eyes, 
which  met  hers,  were  bright  and  shining. 

"  Can  you  guess  who  I  am  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  had  to  draw  a  long  breath  before  he  coidd 
speak.  He  was  stifled  by  some  strange  feeling. 

"  Is  it  my  mamma  ?  "  he  gasped,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot. 

She  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  am  your  mamma?" 
she  demanded. 

"  Papa  told  me  you  were  coming." 

She  gazed  at  the  child  in  sudden  dismay,  feeling 
as  if  entrapped,  caught  in  meshes  she  could  not 
undo.  She  experienced  a  momentary  reaction  from 
the  impulse,  partly  of  mischief,  partly  of  audacity, 
which  had  brought  her  to  this  house,  and  longed  to 
run  away. 

She  had  come  with  the  intention  of  planting,  if 
possible,  a  ghost  of  the  past  in  Lawrence  Garthe's 
present ;  she  longed  to  spoil  his  felicity.  How 
dared  he  live  and  be  happy,  as  if  he  had  neither 
part  nor  lot  with  her  ? 


LARRY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  325 

"Is  your  papa  at  home?"  she  now  inquired 
almost  brusquely. 

"  No,  papa  will  not  be  home  till  six  o'clock." 

"  Then  I  will  come  in  and  see  you." 

"  Are  you  really  my  mamma  ?  "  Larry  inquired, 
red  and  white  chasing  each  other  in  his  face. 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  with  a  shrill  laugh.  "  I  am 
really  your  own  mamma.  The  only  mamma  you 
have  in  all  the  world.  Do  be  good  and  ask  her 
in  out  of  the  snow-storm." 

He  drew  a  long  breath  and  stood  looking  at  her, 
smiling  and  blushing  with  intense  pride  and  joy, 
yet  half  shamefaced,  conscious  of  being  kept  at  a 
distance,  of  being  thwarted  in  some  expectation. 
He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  own  emotions  that  she 
herself  had  to  draw  him  inside  and  shut  the  door, 
then  lead  the  way  into  the  room,  where  a  fire  was 
burning.  She  glanced  round,  half  defiant  and 
half  shy  as  she  entered  the  place,  bracing  herself 
against  the  ordeal  of  some  possible  encounter. 
But  the  library  was  empty,  and  with  a  feeling  of 
relief  and  exultation  she  sank  into  the  blue  chair 
before  the  hearth. 

Larry  had  hold  of  her  hand,  and  now  stood  gaz 
ing  at  her  humbly  and  passionately.  . 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  he  said  in  a  voice  like  a  sob. 

She  flung  down  her  muff  and  drew  him  within 
the  circle  of  her  arms,  experiencing  an  odd  sort  of 
shyness.  He  leaned  against  her  shoulder,  smooth 
ing  the  soft  fine  sable  which  trimmed  her  cloak. 


326      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

They  were  face  to  face,  and  she  studied  him  with 
thoughtful,  inquisitive  eyes,  perhaps  trying  to  make 
out  some  resemblance  to  herself,  or  to  his  father. 
This  sense  of  nearness,  this  deep  strange  look  bent 
on  him,  filled  the  little  fellow  with  the  most  poign 
ant  emotion.  She  drew  him  on  her  lap,  pressed 
his  supple  form  to  her  breast,  embraced  him,  and 
their  lips  met. 

"  Oh,  my  mamma,"  whispered  Larry.  He  burst 
into  a  passion  of  weeping.  He  knelt  on  her  knees, 
put  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and  nestled  his  head 
under  the  cheek,  against  the  warm  white  throat. 

44  Why  do  you  cry  ? "  she  asked,  as  he  still 
sobbed. 

"  Because  I  am  so  happy  you  have  come, 
mamma." 

u  How  did  you  feel  so  sure  that  I  was  your 
mamma  ?  "  she  asked,  and  she,  too,  was  under  the 
thrill  of  emotion. 

"  Papa  said  you  were  coming,"  Larry  returned, 
withdrawing  a  little,  in  order  to  gaze  at  her  the 
better.  How  beautiful  she  was ;  how  rich  and 
dark  her  hair  and  eyebrows ;  how  bright  her  eyes, 
and  how  lovely  the  color  on  her  cheeks  and  lips ! 
How  grand  she  was  too,  with  the  velvet  and  fur 
and  the  gold  ornaments  on  her  bonnet !  His  head 
was  dizzy  with  the  warmth  and  fragrance  of  the 
breast  he  leaned  against.  "  He  did  not  say  you 
would  come  to-day,  but  I  hoped  you  would  come, 
and  I  thought  you  would  come,"  he  went  on, 


LAERY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  327 

pleased  with  this  evidence  of  his  own  sagacity. 
"  Papa  only  said  you  would  come  soon." 

"And  you  wanted  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  been  thinking  about  it  ever 
since  I  got  up  this  morning.  I  did  not  tell  Miss 
Brown,  and  I  did  not  tell  the  boys  when  I  was  out 
at  noon.  But  I  thought  of  it  all  the  time,  and 
Amelia  and  I  have  been  talking  about  it.  I  told 
her  you  were  coming." 

To  be  expected,  waited  for,  welcomed,  gave  her 
a  feeling  of  bewilderment,  almost  of  humiliation. 
Then  she  began  to  piece  together  detached  fancies 
and  ideas,  and  enlightenment  dawned  gradually.  It 
was  not  she  herself  whom  the  child  had  been 
taught  to  prepare  a  welcome  for,  but  that  other 
woman.  In  a  rage  with  Garthe,  with  the  boy,  with 
herself,  and  with  her  life,  she  half  pushed  him 
away,  as  that  spectre  came  between  them,  the 
intolerable  sense  returning,  that  after  all,  in  spite 
of  her  wealth,  her  independence,  nothing  actually 
belonged  to  her.  Had  this  child  and  this  child's 
father,  this  room  with  its  signs  of  habitation  and 
occupation,  ever  been  a  possible  part  of  her  living 
world  of  possessions  and  ideas,  —  where  now  such 
a  gulf  of  distance  must  yawn  between  them  and 
her  ?  Then  as  in  a  flash  she  found  herself  again 
in  high  spirits.  After  all,  the  boy  was  hers.  That 
fact  could  not  be  altered  by  any  decree,  human  or 
divine.  She  could  intrench  herself  in  a  mother's 
prerogative,  which  rests  on  natural  law,  instinct, 


328      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

fate.  Even  if  Garthe  had  another  wife  sitting 
in  this  very  chair,  Larry  could  not  be  her  child. 
She  was  conscious  that  her  heart  was  beating  with 
some  indefinable  agitation,  yet  exultation  welled 
up  within  her.  She  was  well  within  her  rights. 
Nobody  with  a  heart  could  alienate  Larry  from 
her.  The  triumphant  realization  of  her  ability  to 
inflict  pain,  to  put  obstacles  in  the  way  of  Garthe's 
security  and  happiness,  grew,  and  as  she  took  in 
the  irony  of  the  situation,  she  laughed  aloud. 

"  What  did  your  papa  say  about  your  mamma  ?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  That  you  were  coming  to  live  with  us,"  stam 
mered  Larry.  "  He  said  we  had  been  so  lonely, 
but  that  God  was  good,  and  that  we  were  never, 
never  to  be  lonely  any  more.  He  made  me  promise 
I  would  be  good  to  you,  mamma!  "  He  uttered  a 
little  gurgle  of  a  laugh.  "  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  be 
just  as  good  as  I  know  how." 

She  smiled  at  him,  then  in  a  slow,  luminous 
fashion,  which  in  itself  gave  the  boy  a  thrill  and 
tingle  of  feeling,  drew  him  into  her  embrace,  and 
half  stifled  him  with  kisses.  Her  love  of  domi 
nating,  of  conquering,  of  concentrating  everything 
upon  herself,  made  her  eager  to  appropriate  this 
treasure  of  fresh,  unspent  and  abounding  love; 
herself  to  put  the  mint  mark  on  it,  to  deny  it 
another  possible  claimant,  to  despoil  that  other 
woman.  Then,  too,  there  was  the  joy  of  wresting 
the  affections  of  the  child  from  its  father. 


LAREY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  329 

"  You  do  love  me,  don't  you,  Larry  ?  "  she  said 
archly. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  I  love  you  dearly." 

"  You  will  tell  your  papa  you  love  me  ?  " 

Larry  laughed.     "  He  wants  me  to  love  you." 

"  If  he  should  ever  say  that  you  must  not  love 
me,  that  you  must  love  somebody  else ;  if  he  were 
to  tell  you  I  was  a  wicked  woman,  —  that  I  must 
go  away,  —  you  will  still  love  me,  will  you  not?  " 

"  I  bet  I  will,"  said  Larry,  laughing  still  more. 

"  For  I  really  am  your  mother.  Nobody  else  can 
be  your  own  mamma.  They  may  smile,  they  may 
kiss  you,  they  may  seem  to  be  kind,  but  you  will 
know  it  is  all  a  pretense.  You  will  see  that  they 
are  only  making  believe ;  but  this  is  not  making 
believe." 

Again  she  let  her  passion  encircle  him  and  over 
power  him  like  a  flood.  His  senses  were  confused 
by  the  warm  and  fragrant  kisses,  and  he  was  under 
the  spell  of  her  beautiful,  terrible  eyes.  Alter 
nately  he  quaked  with  a  sort  of  ecstatic  fear  and 
screamed  with  laughter.  Half  sweet  although  it 
was,  it  was  half  annihilating ;  he  felt  carried  along 
he  knew  not  whither. 

"  You  see  I  love  you,"  she  said,  drawing  back 
and  letting  her  glance  travel  over  his  face.  "  You 
will  tell  your  papa  that  I  love  you  and  that  you 
love  me  dearly." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  tell  him." 

"  You   see,   dear,"   she   cooed   persuasively,  "  I 


330       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

have  n't  had  you  in  my  arms  since  you  were  almost 
a  baby.  You  were  a  fine  little  fellow  then,  bi:t 
now  you  are  quite  a  man.  Let  me  see  how  tall  you 
are ! " 

He  sprang  down  and  stood  at  a  little  distance  on 
his  round  straight  legs,  and  looked  at  her,  rosy  and 
dimpling,  anxious  for  approval. 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  splendid  boy,"  she  said  admir 
ingly.  "  Let  me  see,  how  old  are  you  ?  Seven 
last  May?" 

"  I  shall  be  eight  next  birthday,"  he  answered, 
looking  at  her  with  love  unbounded. 

"And  so  well-grown,  so  straight,  such  slender 
little  feet  and  ankles !  Let  me  see  your  hands  and 
feel  your  arms !  Oh,  you  're  beautiful.  I  'in  proud 
of  you."  Again  she  devoured  him  with  kisses. 
"Tell  me  about  yourself.  Do  you  have  lessons? 
Can  you  read  ?  " 

He  blushed  and  turned  pale  alternately.  At 
moments  this  love  grew  oppressive,  intolerable  ;  his 
head  seemed  whirling  round.  Still  this  tangible 
evidence  that  he  was  beloved  was  precious  ;  it  made 
everything  more  real.  His  felicity  gathered  mean 
ing,  too,  from  her  beauty,  from  the  sensation  of 
ecstatic  but  mute  delight  which  he  experienced 
under  her  glance.  Strength  and  power  and 
beauty  seemed  crystallized  in  her,  and  he  was  a 
mere  atom  under  her  control.  It  was  a  relief  to 
have  a  moment  to  collect  his  thoughts,  to  regain, 
as  it  were,  possession  of  himself,  and  answer  her 


LARRY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  331 

questions.  His  tongue  once  unloosed,  he  poured  out 
every  idea  which  came  into  his  mind.  He  intro 
duced  Fido,  who  had  been  undergoing  agonies  of  jeal 
ousy  and  chagrin  at  the  presence  of  this  intruder. 
Mou-mou  was  on  her  cushion  asleep,  —  she  was  al 
ways  asleep,  —  and  she  seemed  always,  if  she  were 
awake,  to  be  a  little  disdainful  of  the  world  and  con 
sider  it  not  worth  a  cat's  attention.  It  was  Amelia 
who  usually  took  care  of  him;  Button,  however, 
sometimes  put  him  to  bed  and  dressed  him  in  the 
morning.  Papa  took  him  to  school  at  nine  o'clock 
and  Button  came  for  him  at  twelve.  He  learned  all 
sorts  of  things ;  he  could  model,  draw,  print,  and 
even  read  a  little ;  he  knew  figures  too,  and  maps. 
These  were  his  new  boots.  See,  what  splendid  soles ! 
He  had  quite  outgrown  his  old  ones ;  they  pinched 
him.  He  had  a  new  winter  coat  with  three  capes, 
and  a  cap  of  the  same  stuff.  Amelia's  canary  bird 
would  eat  sugar  from  his  lips,  and  chirped  whenever 
he  went  into  the  kitchen.  Sometimes  Mou-mou 
would  look  at  the  bird,  opening  and  shutting  her 
yellow  eyes,  and  sheathing  and  unsheathing  her 
claws  as  if  she  would  like  to  get  nearer  that  cage. 
And  papa  was  teaching  him  Latin  in  the  evenings, 
and  at  breakfast  they  always  talked  French.  Love 
his  papa !  He  loved  him  as  much,  —  as  much  as 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  put  together. 

While  he  prattled  on  he  thought  it  odd  but  very 
droll  and  delightful  that  she  interrupted  him  with 
little  teasing  and  jesting  questions.  She  smiled, 


332      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

her  lips  parted  and  showed  now  and  then  her  pretty, 
even  teeth.  A  deeper  sense  of  her  beauty  came 
upon  him  every  time  she  moved  and  turned.  She 
had  thrown  off  her  wraps  one  by  one,  —  the  cape  of 
sable,  the  long  cloak  of  velvet,  the  many-buttoned 
gloves,  and  at  every  fresh  revelation  of  the  full, 
rounded  figure,  the  little  hands  covered  with  rings, 
the  brooch  studded  with  diamonds  at  her  throat, 
his  heart  swelled  with  ecstasy  to  think  that  this 
beautiful  creature  was  his  own,  own  mother. 

"  Mamma,  mamma,"  he  burst  out  almost  sobbing, 
he  was  so  profoundly,  so  intensely  proud  of  her. 

She  had  been  glancing  about  the  room,  and 
now,  jumping  up,  began  to  look  at  the  pictures 
and  the  books  with  which  the  place  was  strewn. 
She  lifted  here  and  there  one  of  the  Greek  figurines, 
a  vase,  a  bit  of  brass  or  cloissonnc.  She  sat  down 
before  the  desk  and  turned  over  the  papers  on  the 
blotter,  glanced  at  a  pile  of  letters  in  a  silver  etui, 
even  peeped  into  the  pigeon-holes.  While  she  was 
thus  rummaging,  Larry  saw,  with  the  same  feeling 
of  terror  and  admiration  he  had  more  than  once  felt, 
that  her  face  grew  strange,  eager,  and  imperious. 
The  idea  of  her  not  being  pleased  was  like  a  blow 
on  the  tender  little  heart.  He  was  conscious  of 
the  defiant  restless  spirit  which  shone  in  her  eyes ; 
that  she  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something  which 
should  satisfy  some  hungry  instinct.  He  wondered 
what  it  could  be.  There  was  a  pile  of  manuscript 
which  she  turned  over  with  a  curling  lip,  —  proof- 


LAEEY  HAS  A   VISITOR.  333 

sheets  ;  they  did  not  rouse  her  curiosity.  It  might 
have  seemed  as  if  she  longed  to  conjure  up  some 
thing,  that  she  felt  the  presence  of  something  antag 
onistic,  something  upon  which  she  longed  to  pounce, 
and  devour  without  remorse  or  scruple.  After  a 
while,  perhaps  convinced  that  there  was  nothing  to 
be  found,  perhaps  put  to  shame  by  Larry's  eyes, 
which  grew  wider  and  wider  with  surprise,  she 
laughed  to  herself,  turned,  and  as  if  demanding  an 
outlet  for  her  superfluous  fire  and  energy,  she  began 
to  play  with  the  boy.  An  imp-like  feeling  of  defi 
ance,  of  resolution  to  do  all  that  she  might  and  to 
treat  everything  as  her  own,  to  wrest  the  rights  of 
possession  out  of  dispossession,  assailed  her  every 
moment  more  and  more  strongly.  She  caught  up  a 
set  of  carved  ivory  balls  which  she  began  to  toss  like 
a  juggler ;  then  when  she  could  not  keep  them  in  air, 
she  pelted  Larry  with  them  recklessly ;  she  chased 
him  up  and  down  the  room,  brought  him  to  bay  on 
the  lounge,  and  pretended  to  smother  him  with  cush 
ions.  Her  cheeks  grew  more  and  more  rosy,  her 
eyes  brighter  and  brighter,  her  smile  more  mischie 
vous.  She  asked  him  if  he  knew  how  to  dance,  and, 
finding  him  uninstructed,  gave  him  a  lesson,  —  then 
all  at  once  stopped  short  in  a  pirouette  and  held  up 
her  finger. 

"  Hush,"  she  said,  "  what  is  that  ?  "  She  heard 
a  click  at  the  door. 

"That  is  papa,"  the  boy  cried  in  a  rapture  of 
joy.  "  Papa,  papa !  "  He  ran  into  the  hall  and 


334      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

threw  himself  into  his  father's  arms  the  moment  he 
crossed  the  threshold.  "  She  has  come,"  he  cried 
triumphantly. 

44  Who  has  come  ?  "  asked  Lawrence  Garthe. 

"  You  told  me  she  was  coming,  —  I  knew  her  in 
a  moment." 

"Who  is  it?"  demanded  Garthe,  startled. 

44  Why,  mamma !     Of  course,  it  is  mamma." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   DKEAM   COME   TRUE. 

IT  had  grown  darker.  Amelia,  who  had  not 
been  long  in  making  the  discovery  of  so  unusual 
a  circumstance  as  Larry's  having  a  feminine  visi 
tor,  and  puzzled  besides  by  the  stray  fragments  of 
conversation  which  floated  to  her  ears  as  she  lin 
gered  about  the  hall  and  the  dining-room,  had  not 
lighted  the  gas.  Accordingly,  when  Garthe  — 
whose  instinctive  guess  could  only  be  that  Con 
stance  and  probably  Mrs.  Garner  had  come  to  see 
Larry  —  advanced  to  the  door  of  the  library,  he 
could  discern  only  the  dim  outlines  of  the  figure  of 
a  youthful  and  symmetrical  woman,  relieved  by  the 
background  of  the  fire.  Her  features  he  could  not 
make  out  at  all. 

"  This  is  very  good  of  you,"  he  began  in  a  voice 
which  was  husky,  for  his  heart  was  beating  fast. 

At  the  same  instant,  Amelia,  advancing  behind 
him,  lighted  the  hanging  lamp  in  the  hall,  making 
a  dazzling  illumination  which  streamed  into  the 
library,  not  fully  penetrating  it,  but  focusing  its 
brightness  in  one  place  while  deepening  the  shad 
ows  elsewhere.  Garthe,  advancing,  saw  just  clearly 
enough  to  wrest  a  sharp  presentiment  out  of  his 


336       THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GsiBTHE. 

thickly  gathering  crowd  of  impressions.  His  mind 
reverted  to  his  dream  of  the  night  before.  No, 
that  was  incredible,  impossible  ! 

With  the  idea  of  Constance  encompassing  him 
wherever  he  went,  it  had  at  first  not  seemed 
strange  that  she  should  be  here.  In  all  ways  her 
goodness  to  him  had  been  little  short  of  miracle, 
and  this  would  be  but  an  added  instance.  That 
hope  was  still  his  defense,  all  that  he  had  to  help 
him  to  contend  against  a  thousand  fears.  They 
—  vague,  shadowy,  problematical,  —  gathered  like 
birds  of  ill  omen  out  of  the  black  gulf  which  sud 
denly  seemed  to  open  before  him.  Again  he  felt 
the  oppression,  the  horror  of  his  nightmare  repeat 
itself,  suffocating  him  and  clogging  his  limbs.  He 
could  not  move ;  he  stood  perfectly  still  and  gazed 
into  the  shadow. 

Larry,  as  if  conscious  that  he  was  no  longer  a 
chief  actor,  stood  by,  a  spectator  of  events,  full  of 
an  agitation  which  was  half  alarm  and  half  hope. 
The  silence  seemed  to  him  terrible. 

Little  by  little,  as  Garthe  stood  peering  into  the 
gloom,  feeling  as  if  life  were  suspended,  doubt  be 
came  suspicion,  suspicion  became  certainty.  His 
forces  came  back  with  a  sense  of  meeting  a  crisis, 
of  doing  battle  with  an  enemy. 

u  Who  is  this  ?  "  he  demanded,  in  a  low,  stern 
voice. 

"  Bella,"  she  answered. 

"My  God!" 


A  DEE  AM  COME  TRUE.  337 

He  advanced  a  step  more,  drew  a  match  from 
his  pocket,  struck  it  across  the  heel  of  his  boot, 
touched  the  jets  in  the  chandelier  and  flooded  the 
room  with  light. 

44  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

He  could  see  her  clearly  now,  bright  and  alert, 
with  something  in  her  eyes  disdainful,  almost 
fierce. 

44  I  wanted  to  see  my  child,"  she  said  with  pride 
and  decision.  "  He  is  my  child  as  much  as  he  is 
yours,  let  you  rob  me  of  him  as  you  may." 

The  two  stood  looking  at  each  other.  Garthe's 
thin  face  had  grown  pale ;  his  eyes  seemed  dull ; 
they  had  a  giddy,  dazed  look;  his  closely  folded 
lips  expressed  almost  a  giving  way  to  despair. 

She,  too,  had  changed  color,  but  in  a  way  to  put 
her  at  her  best.  At  this  moment,  under  the  stimu 
lus  of  a  mixture  of  emotions,  she  was  beautiful. 

"You  are  the  woman  I  saw  at  the  opera  with 
Hartley,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Although  I  could  not 
see  your  face,  an  indefinable  resemblance  haunted 
me.  The  color  of  your  hair  has  changed." 

44  Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  half  laugh,  44  my 
hair  used  to  be  reddish  gold  when  you  knew  me. 
It  might  be  rather  a  pleasant  experience  to  turn 
brunette  after  being  a  blonde,  if  the  change  would 
only  go  deep  enough.  But  nothing  has  really 
changed  me.  I  am  the  same  old  Bella,  after  all. 
I  cannot  get  another  brain,  —  I  cannot  get  another 
heart."  She  laughed  again,  a  dreary  little  laugh. 


338      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GAETUE. 

In  the  ferment  of  impressions  which  tested 
Garthe's  self-control,  what  most  made  him  flinch 
was  the  familiarity  of  every  tone  of  her  voice, 
every  turn  and  twist  of  expression  which  showed 
her  mental  make-up. 

His  predominant  feeling  was  of  the  outrage  she 
had  committed  in  coming  to  his  house.  Yet  why 
had  he  been  so  blind,  why  had  he  permitted  him 
self  and  Larry  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  this  ter 
rible  enemy  ?  For  she  was  a  terrible,  an  invincible 
enemy,  —  an  enemy  before  whom  he  must  lay 
down  his  arms.  Let  him  try  as  he  might  to  be 
angry,  to  work  himself  up  into  a  rage,  he  knew 
that  such  wrath  was  impotent.  It  was  of  no  use 
to  be  angry.  This  was  Fate,  inexorable,  appall 
ing,  insisting  on  the  eternal  sequence  of  human 
actions,  the  unity  of  cause  and  effect.  If  he  had 
strength  for  unreasoning  rage,  let  him  turn  it 
against  himself,  against  his  own  fatuity  in  expect 
ing  anything  for  his  portion  except  black  despair. 

He  had  suffered  before,  but  not  like  this.  That 
was  the  beginning,  this  was  the  end. 

Still,  what  he  said  was,  speaking  in  the  lowest 
possible  voice,  "  You  must  go  away.  You  have  no 
right  here.  No,  you  have  no  right." 

Larry,  looking  into  his  face,  watching  the  stern 
unchanging  features,  and  seeing  that  everything 
was  somehow  going  strangely  wrong,  uttered  a  cry. 

"  Oh,  papa,"  he  said,  with  a  quivering,  appealing 
accent,  "  do  not  say  that.  Do  not  be  cruel  to  my 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  339 

mamma.  You  told  me  she  would  come ;  you  told 
me  to  be  good  to  her ;  I  was  looking  out  for  her ; 
I  was  wishing  with  all  my  heart  that  she  would 
come,  and  she  came.  And  I  love  her,  —  I  love  her 
so  much." 

If  anything  could  better  have  set  the  bitter  irony 
of  all  his  hopes  clearly  before  Garthe,  it  must  have 
been  just  these  words.  The  contrast  between  the 
mother  he  had  yesterday  described  to  the  child, 
pure  as  one  of  Raphael's  Madonnas,  and  this 
woman  sent  straight  up  from  the  Prince  of  Dark 
ness,  without  feeling,  without  pity,  still  crowned 
and  triumphant,  was  too  hideous  to  be  borne. 

"  What  I  cannot  understand,"  he  said  inflexibly, 
"is  why  you  should  come  here, — how  you  could 
dare  to  come  here." 

"  Larry  is  my  child,"  she  returned. 

"  The  child  whom  you  deserted,  —  flung  aside  as 
a  useless  incumbrance." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Bella,  with  a  thrill  in  her 
voice,  "the  child  I  have  remembered  and  longed 
for.  Think  for  a  moment,  Lawrence ;  try  to  un 
derstand  that  a  woman  may  throw  away  the  choi 
cest  gifts  of  life  and  then  a  little  later  wake  up  to 
see  the  blind  fool  that  she  was,  the  senseless  thing 
she  was,  the  shameless  thing  she  was."  She  paused 
a  moment  and,  as  if  to  try  the  effect  of  her  words 
upon  him,  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  him  to  speak ; 
then  went  on :  "  Then  when  she  knows  that  she  has 
forever  shut  herself  out  of  heaven,  can't  you  ima- 


340      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

gine  the  necessity  she  is  under  of  crawling  on  her 
hands  and  knees  to  the  gates  and  looking  in  ?  I 
only  expected  to  walk  by  your  house  this  afternoon. 
It  was  something  to  find  out  where  you  lived,  — 
where  my  child  lived.  And  there  he  was  at  the 
window,  —  he  saw  me;  did  you  not,  Larry?  He 
seemed  to  know  me  by  instinct,  just  as  I  knew 
him.  He  seemed  to  be  watching  and  waiting  for 
me.  He  ran  to  the  door  to  let  me  in !  " 

Larry,  who  had  listened  to  this  vindication  with 
a  mute  delight,  burst  out,  "  You  had  told  me,  you 
know,  papa,  that  mamma  was  coming,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  4  Perhaps  she  will  come  to-day,'  and  there 
she  was." 

A  crimson  flush  had  risen  to  Garthe's  face. 

"  I  should  have  supposed,"  he  observed  quietly, 
"  that  if  in  all  New  York  there  was  a  house  you 
longed  to  avoid,  to  flee  from  the  sight  of,  it  would 
be  the  house  where  I  lived." 

"  You  don't  know  me !  You  have  no  idea  how 
a  woman  clings,"  cried  Bella,  as  if  stung  by  his 
tone.  "  But  I  will  go  away.  I  can  at  least  walk 
up  and  down  outside  in  the  cold  and  darkness  and 
think  that  you  and  Larry  are  within,  warm,  com 
fortable,  and  happy." 

This  cruel  suggestion  struck  the  child  like  a 
blow.  He  set  up  a  cry. 

44  Must  I  go?"  she  said,  taking  a  step  forward 
and  addressing  Garthe  as  if  he  were  a  stony-hearted 
judge. 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  341 

He  made  a  gesture  as  if  waiving  the  question, 
and  walked  out  of  the  room.  What  he  expe 
rienced  was  a  sense  that  everything  in  his  uni 
verse  had  fallen  into  a  condition  of  chaos,  —  a 
chaos  against  which  his  soul  revolted.  The  im 
pression  was  strong  upon  him  that  she  was  not 
sincere,  —  that  she  was  acting  a  part,  that  she 
had  some  purpose  of  her  own  to  attain.  Perhaps 
she  wanted  money ;  most  probably  she  wanted 
money.  His  mind  recurred  to  what  Hartley  had 
said  of  her  wealth,  but  no  doubt  that  was  the  fic 
tion  imposed  upon  the  world  by  a  bold  adventuress. 
What  else  could  she  have  come  for  except  money  ? 
His  thoughts  hovered  uneasily  round  this  ques 
tion,  never  quite  settling  upon  a  clear  hypothesis. 
What  he  was  certain  of  was  her  egotism,  her  ca 
price,  her  indifference  to  anything  save  her  own  ap 
pointed  end.  She  knew  too,  that,  let  him  loathe 
her  as  he  might,  let  him  be  shocked,  startled,  out 
raged,  he  would  work  her  no  ill.  All  she  had  to 
do  was  to  plant  herself  in  his  path  and  he  would 
part  with  anything  he  possessed  save  the  boy,  to 
get  rid  of  her. 

"  Yes,  she  wants  more  money,"  he  said,  imposing 
the  formula  upon  himself  as  if  it  carried  with  it  a 
sort  of  relief.  But  it  was  a  mere  formula.  At 
heart  he  cared  for  nothing  except  the  fact  of  her 
existence;  the  fact  that  he  had  believed  that  he 
had  forever  escaped  from  her,  but  that  he  had  not 
escaped  from  her,  —  that  he  never  could  escape 


342      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

from  her.  He  could  no  more  escape  this  implaca 
ble  enemy  than  he  could  escape  from  his  own  iden 
tity.  She  was  forever  a  part  of  himself.  He  had 
married  her;  she  had  been  his  wife;  she  was 
Larry's  mother.  Whether  she  were  true  or  false, 
repentant  or  callous,  whether  she  had  come  out  of 
levity  and  idleness  or  with  a  purpose,  whether  she 
were  a  loving  mother  or  a  heartless  mother,  it  did 
not  alter  the  fact  of  her  existence.  It  could  not 
be  reasoned  away ;  it  was  no  matter  of  selection,  of 
choice,  even  of  equity  and  of  law.  Divorce  af 
fected  nothing  but  the  superficial  outside  situation. 
He  had,  eight  years  before,  honestly  chosen  her  for 
his  wife,  and  nothing  could  alter  that  fact.  He 
could  no  more  take  her  out  of  his  life,  undo  the 
circumstance  of  her  being  Larry's  mother,  than  he 
could  himself  enter  again  into  his  mother's  womb 
and  be  born  anew. 

The  fetters  were  upon  him  ;  he  could  not  wrestle, 
he  could  not  attempt  to  shake  off  the  bondage. 
He  was  again  a  captive,  —  a  captive  without  hope 
of  release. 

He  stood  in  the  hall,  rooted  to  the  floor. 

Button  came  up  and  inquired  whether  he  should 
tell  Amelia  to  serve  dinner. 

Garthe  started,  stared.  Button  repeated  the 
question. 

"Oh,  yes,  serve  dinner  if  it  is  ready." 

"  Will  the  lady  stay  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  probable.     Set  a  place  for  her." 


A  DEE  AM  GOME  TRUE.  343 

Garthe's  tone  was  so  quiet,  Button  was  reassured. 
Perhaps  after  all  the  incident  was  not  so  startling 
as  it  had  seemed. 

Garthe  took  a  turn  in  the  hall,  with  his  hand 
pressing  his  forehead.  It  seemed  to  him  he  was  the 
slave  of  the  events  which  compelled  him  against 
his  free  choice. 

"  Yet  a  man  must  be  very  fastidious  indeed  if 
he  cannot  sit  down  to  a  meal  with  the  woman  he 
has  married  and  made  the  mother  of  his  offspring," 
he  said  almost  audibly,  smitten  by  a  sense  of  the 
irony  of  things. 

There  lay  the  sting  for  him,  and  for  her  there 
was  the  undeniable  fact  which  made  her  defeat  a 
victory,  her  humiliation  a  triumph.  He  could  not 
permit  the  recollection  to  burn  into  Larry's  mind, 
to  become  a  part  of  his  lifelong  consciousness,  that 
his  mother  had  come  as  a  suppliant  and  been  cast 
out.  No,  that  must  not  be.  Better  any  sacrifice. 
And  after  all,  it  could  do  no  harm,  —  the  harm 
was  done  years  ago ;  the  shame,  the  intolerable 
disgrace  of  it  had  been  a  part  of  the  world's  record 
for  six  years.  Let  her  stay,  —  Larry  would  be 
sleepy  presently ;  he  would  be  put  to  bed.  Then 
for  five  minutes'  clear  and  concise  questioning  and 
pressing  to  the  point  of  finding  out  the  object  of 
this  visit,  and  she  should  be  dismissed.  If  she 
were  to  be  bought  off,  he  would  buy  her  off.  If 
her  intention  was  simply  to  humiliate,  thwart,  and 
hinder  his  life,  he  would  again  take  Larry  and 


344      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

put  the  "  unplumbed  salt  estranging  seas  "  between 
him  and  her. 

lie  went  back  to  the  library. 

Bella  was  sitting  in  the  low  chair  before  the 
fire,  with  Larry  kneeling  on  her  lap.  His  hands 
rested  on  her  shoulders,  his  little  cherub  face  was 
all  alive  with  light.  He  was  telling  her  about  his 
locomotive  engine. 

"  I  '11  get  it  and  show  it  to  you,  mamma,"  he  was 
saying  as  his  father  entered. 

"  Wait  until  after  dinner,  Larry,"  said  Garthe 
quietly.  "  Now  we  will  go  out  to  table." 

Bella  gave  him  a  humble,  grateful  glance. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  —  "  she  faltered. 

"Dinner  is  ready.  Larry  shall  take  you  out  to 
dinner." 

His  composure,  his  absolute  calmness,  seemed  to 
strike  her  powerfully.  She  remembered  him  as 
a  young  fellow  of  twenty-three  or  four,  at  first  her 
puppet,  then  a  man  in  the  meshes  of  a  net,  striking 
out  recklessly  to  free  himself.  This  was  a  develop 
ment  which  stirred  curiosity,  almost  awe.  He  felt 
her  glance  and  turned  away.  She  smiled  to  her 
self,  put  Larry  down  on  the  floor,  and  rose  to  her 
feet. 

"  I  will  take  off  my  bonnet,"  she  said,  emulating 
Garthe's  composure,  and  with  a  pretty  woman's 
instinct  glancing  round  for  a  mirror. 

"  Here  is  a  glass  in  this  cabinet,"  he  said,  step 
ping  back.  His  eyes  lingered  on  her  as  she  stood 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  345 

regarding  her  own  image,  giving  a  touch  to  the 
light  curls  about  her  forehead,  and  settling  her 
brooch  more  securely  at  her  throat.  She  was  at 
once  so  familiar  and  so  strange  to  his  perception ! 
When  he  had  last  seen  her  she  had  been  a  slim, 
lithe  young  creature,  with  an  arch  face  which 
gained  piquancy  from  its  contrast  of  dark  eyes  and 
eyebrows  and  golden  hair.  Now  her  figure  had 
rounded,  her  hair  had  grown  dark,  and  the  whole 
woman  had  gained  symmetry  and,  perhaps,  beauty. 
She  had  on  a  gown  of  black  satin,  touched  here  and 
there  with  a  bead  of  jet,  which  fitted  her  form  as 
if  moulded  upon  it.  At  her  throat  was  a  heavy 
bar  of  gold  studded  with  diamonds.  Both  hands 
glittered  with  rings,  but  they  were  the  same  slender, 
pretty  hands  she  had  had  as  a  girl ;  indeed  she  had, 
except  for  the  deepened  tint  of  her  hair,  changed 
very  little. 

She  could  see  in  the  mirror  that  his  eyes  rested 
on  her,  and  she  did  not  turn  away  until  he  had 
looked  his  fill.  Then  she  stepped  forward,  her 
cheeks  crimson.  A  feeling  of  intense  exultation, 
boundless,  intoxicating,  had  swept  through  her  as 
she  felt  his  gaze.  After  all,  she  had  been  his  first 
love,  and  that  sort  of  man,  she  said  within  herself, 
is  constant  by  instinct,  by  habit,  by  the  very  limita 
tions  of  his  mind.  Who  knew  what  might  drift 
up  from  the  unknown  ?  She  predicted  nothing,  ex 
pected  nothing.  She  would  not  adopt  any  settled 
plan  of  action,  only  try  to  be  sufficient  to  the  mo- 


346      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

inent,  to  meet  the  event,  —  to  iniss  nothing  through 
want  of  pliancy  or  tact. 

She  put  her  hand  in  Larry's  to  be  led  out  to  the 
table.  The  moment  his  eyes  fell  on  the  cover  laid 
at  Garthe's  right  hand  he  burst  out,  "  Oh,  papa, 
may  not  mamma  sit  next  to  me  ?  " 

u  Wherever  you  please,  my  little  son." 

The  table  was  small  and  round  ;  Button  changed 
the  place,  and  drew  a  chair  opposite  to  that  of  his 
master.  She  seemed  to  hesitate  ;  then,  raising  her 
eyes  to  Garthe's  with  a  look  of  mute  gratitude,  she 
sat  down.  He  glanced  back,  apparently  with  abso 
lute  indifference. 

"  I  want  you  where  I  can  put  my  hand  on  you, 
mamma,"  said  Larry.  "  I  want  to  feel  your  gown. 
It  is  so  soft,  and  it  shines  like  stars.  You  said  she 
would  wear  pretty  gowns,  papa." 

Garthe's  face  was  impenetrable.  He  seemed 
neither  to  see  the  pleading  expression  of  the  eyes 
raised  to  his  face,  nor  to  hear  Larry's  words.  Bella 
had  nevertheless  a  triumphant  consciousness  that,  let 
him  command  himself  as  he  might,  he  could  never  be 
indifferent.  She  knew  the  passionate  nature  of  the 
man  too  well  to  believe  he  could  look  at  her  coldly  ; 
whether  towards  hatred  or  towards  love,  she  was 
sure  somehow  to  move  him.  Then,  too,  he  was  full 
of  penetration  and  insight,  he  was  never  dull,  never 
inattentive,  never  forgetful.  Audacious  although 
she  tried  to  be,  she  was  still  a  little  frightened,  — 
under  the  thrill  of  a  conviction  that  something 


A  DEE  AM  COME  TRUE.  347 

momentous  was  happening.  And  he  !  He  was  cer 
tain  to  be  conscious  of  her  nearness.  They  were 
face  to  face,  —  nothing  between  them  save  a  yard 
or  so  of  table,  with  a  dish  of  oranges  and  hothouse 
grapes  in  the  centre. 

They  had  sat  in  just  this  same  way  before,  and 
with  Larry  between  them,  but  with  a  difference. 
The  nicety  of  the  appointments  of  this  dinner-table, 
the  extreme  care  bestowed  on  each  detail  of  the  ser 
vice,  was  an  index  of  the  man.  His  fastidiousness, 
his  irrational  standards,  his  dislike  of  disorder, 
confusion,  makeshifts,  had  been  the  first  entering 
wedge  which  had  finally  separated  them.  His  re 
quirements  had  always  suggested  an  experience  of 
which  she  was  jealous.  Now  with  her  present  en 
largement  of  knowledge  she  understood  him  better. 
She  wondered  of  what  he  was  thinking ;  of  what 
could  he  be  thinking  except  of  her  ?  No  clear  line 
of  demarcation  between  past  and  present  could  exist 
while  they  sat  here  face  to  face.  And  in  that  past 
he  had  been  her  puppet,  her  suppliant,  regarding 
her  smiles  and  frowns  as  the  uncertain  glory  of  an 
April  day,  loving  her  when  she  yielded,  better 
still  when  she  showed  him  invincible  caprice. 

Garthe's  grip  upon  himself  was  the  result  of  an 
tagonistic  impulses.  He  was  certainly  in  no  danger 
of  forgetting  that  this  was  the  travesty  of  the  old 
situation,  throwing  upon  everything  that  had  hap 
pened  since  a  garish  light  of  mockery.  But  his 
personal  feeling  of  outrage  and  indignity  was 


348      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

subordinated  to  other  needs  of  the  moment.  Larry, 
bashful  but  swelling  with  pride,  felt  himself  to  be 
the  hero  of  the  hour ;  for,  kindled  by  Bella's  quick 
sympathy,  he  talked  incessantly,  turning  occasion 
ally  to  his  father  to  draw  him  into  the  rapid  dialogue. 
Bella  as  well  was  caught  up  by  the  spirit  of  the 
moment  into  something  resembling  gayety,  then 
would  check  herself  and  glance  over  at  the  quiet 
figure  opposite  with  the  clearly  cut  face  and  indom 
itable  eyes. 

He  was  conscious  of  her  least  sentence,  of  every 
play  of  feature.  He  knew  what  the  old  Bella  had 
been  ;  naive,  excitable,  restless,  loving  tropical  sensa 
tion,  with  a  vanity  which  hindered  any  real  develop 
ment.  He  had  at  first  seen  in  the  girl's  mobility 
and  quick  intelligence  high  promise.  What  he  had 
found  incalculable  was  her  lack  of  heart,  her  revolt 
against  any  course  of  action  which  hindered  her  free 
play.  He  had  easily  come  to  believe  that  she  had 
never  cared  for  himself.  Had  she  loved  the  man 
for  whom  she  had  deserted  him  ?  She  was  the 
kind  of  woman  for  whom  he  would  have  predicted 
swift  deterioration.  Had  she  stood  still  ?  Can  a 
man  or  woman  stand  still,  —  without  either  rising 
or  falling?  How  was  it  possible  for  a  woman, 
after  breaking  every  tie  and  obligation,  not  to 
have  declined?  Yet  the  more  he  looked  at  her, 
the  more  she  seemed  to  him  subdued,  softened,  de 
veloped.  Heaven  keep  him  from  any  knowledge 
of  what  her  experiences  had  been,  but  at  all  events 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  349 

she  showed  at  this  moment  the  dignity,  the  soft 
feminine  charm  he  had  missed  in  the  old  days. 
She  was  far  handsomer  than  as  a  girl,  but  this 
beauty  and  fuller  symmetry  came  from  good  living 
and  careful  grooming.  It  was  clear  that  she  at 
least  understood  her  own  advantages,  had  herself 
well  in  hand,  —  could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  a 
little  coquettish?  Did  she  perhaps  dream  of  re- 
subjugating  him  ?  The  sudden  fit  of  savage  feel 
ing  that  swept  over  him  came  in  part  from  a 
perception  that  what  has  once  been  a  man's  ruling 
motive  must  be  eternally  his  ruling  fate,  —  that 
actually  a  man  loves  once,  just  as  he  is  born  once 
and  dies  once  ;  that  passion  once  experienced,  even 
when  it  becomes  the  most  accursed  of  recollections, 
is  never  quite  extinct.  Why  had  he  suffered  this 
woman  to  stay  in  his  house  ?  Why  had  he  been 
moved  to  think  that  she  had  developed,  grown 
better,  when  all  she  could  have  learned  must  be 
the  better  how  to  pretend  ? 

"  Is  n't  this  nice,  papa?  "  said  Larry,  seeing  the 
cloud  thicken  on  his  father's  brow,  and  trying  to 
draw  him  into  the  talk. 

"Very  nice  for  me,"  Bella  hastened  to  say  as 
Garthe  remained  silent.  "  You  and  your  papa  have 
each  other  every  day." 

"  But  we  did  n't  use  to  have  you  every  day, 
mamma,"  said  Larry. 

"  I  cannot  feel  that  you  missed  me,"  Bella  sighed  ; 
then  asked,  "  How  long  have  you  lived  here?" 


350      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Larry  looked  eagerly  at  his  father. 

"  Since  last  June,  —  at  least,  I  bought  the  house 
then,"  said  Garthe. 

At  this  breaking  of  the  silence  on  his  father's 
part,  Larry  smiled  with  ineffable  self-content, 
feeling  that  his  desire  was  accomplished.  With 
his  head  on  one  side  like  a  sagacious  parrot, 
he  went  on  repeating  his  father's  words  and  ex 
plaining  that  they  did  not  live  there  in  the  sum 
mer,  but  went  climbing  high  mountains,  sailing  in 
ships,  and  swimming  in  seas.  At  first  he  was 
afraid  to  go  into  the  water,  although  he  had  seen 
little  babies  in  the  canal  tied  to  a  board,  —  then 
his  papa  had  taken  him  in  his  strong  arms  and  had 
walked  with  the  waves  coming  up  about  them, 
and  he  had  liked  it.  "  There  is  nobody  like 
papa,"  he  said,  beaming,  "  he  is  so  strong  and  so 
sure." 

"  I  know,"  murmured  Bella,  "  there  is  nobody 
like  your  papa." 

Garthe  made  a  restless  movement. 

"  Up  in  the  mountains,"  continued  Larry,  "  he 
put  a  little  wheel  in  a  brook,  which  went  round 
and  round  under  a  waterfall.  There  is  nothing 
my  papa  cannot  do." 

"I  know,"  said  Bella,  "there  is  nothing  your 
papa  cannot  do." 

She  looked  at  the  face  opposite,  which  showed  at 
this  moment  nothing  but  imperious  disdain. 

"You    mix   everything    up,    Larry,"  he    said 


A  DEE  AM  COME  TRUE.  351 

"  You  talk  of  what  happened  in  Europe  as  if  we 
were  there  last  summer." 

"  Let  him  tell  me  all  he  can.  I  know  so  little," 
she  said  with  an  imploring  accent. 

She  plied  the  boy  with  questions.  What  did 
he  like  best?  When  and  how  was  he  happiest? 
Was  he  always  well  and  strong? 

No ;  once,  Larry  said,  he  had  been  very  ill ;  he 
had  to  lie  in  bed,  although  it  burned  him;  he 
could  not  keep  his  head  still ;  oh,  it  was  terrible  ! 
Then  his  father  took  him  in  his  arms  and  walked 
and  sang  to  him  and  put  him  in  comfortable 
places,  and  at  last  he  felt  quiet  and  could  get  little 
naps,  and  if  he  woke  up  there  was  his  father  close 
beside  him. 

"  He  kept  sitting  there  for  a  whole  week,  —  or 
was  it  a  month,  papa  ?  "  said  Larry  triumphantly. 
"And  when  I  woke  up  he  would  say,  'You  are 
getting  well  fast,  Larry,'  and  I  would  say,  4  Yes, 
I  'm  getting  well  fast.'  You  were  glad,  were  n't 
you,  papa,  that  I  got  well  ?  " 

Garthe  nodded  and  put  down  his  hand  on  the 
little  hand  extended  towards  him. 

"  Some  boys  don't  get  well,"  Larry  explained 
with  significance  to  Bella.  "There  was  Hobby 
Vandam  I  used  to  play  with.  One  day  he  had 
to  be  sent  home  from  school  and  he  never  came 
back  any  more.  They  said  he  choked  up  and 
could  n't  breathe,  though  they  cut  a  hole  in  his 
throat." 


352      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  Don't  tell  such  dreadful  things,"  said  Bella 
with  a  shudder.  Her  eye  met  Garthe's,  and  she 
felt  as  if  he  read  in  her  face  that  whole  miserable 
story  of  her  losing  her  little  girl  baby  by  diph 
theria,  —  Danvers-Carr's  child  ;  and  although  her 
look  pleaded  with  him  for  forgiveness,  his  said  that 
he  had  not  forgiven,  that  he  would  not  forgive. 

Illusion  gained  ground  rapidly  in  her  mind, 
nevertheless.  Any  one  looking  on,  she  said  to 
herself,  might  think  that  they  were  making  an  ex 
periment  to  discover  whether  their  alienation  were 
hopeless,  whether  their  solicitude  for  the  child 
might  not  be  strong  enough  to  shape  their  future 
lives.  She  laid  herself  out  more  and  more  to 
please  Larry.  At  dessert  she  tempted  him  to  draw 
his  chair  close  to  hers.  She  laid  the  little  head 
against  her  shoulder,  she  kissed  him,  laughed  in 
his  face  when  his  eyes  melted  with  delicious  lan 
guor.  When  she  saw  Garthe  flush  and  straighten 
himself  uneasily,  she  knew  that  she  had  touched 
him  to  the  quick.  Oh,  to  make  him  jealous !  She 
expended  all  her  sweetness  on  the  child ;  she  could 
well  afford  to  risk  some  coquetry,  show  all  her 
power  of  pleasing. 

"  He  is  asleep,"  said  Garthe  suddenly  in  a  harsh 
voice. 

"  Yes,  he  is  asleep,"  she  returned,  and  then 
leaned  her  cheek  against  the  boy's  temple,  mute. 

The  two  were  alone.  Button  had  left  the  room. 
For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  Garthe 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  353 

pushed  back  his  chair,  rose,  and  went  round  the 
table. 

"  I  will  take  him,"  he  said. 

She  looked  up,  and  he  looked  down.  Her  face 
showed  a  conflict  of  feelings,  his  was  cold  and 
grave. 

"Must  he  go?"  she  asked  with  a  long-drawn 
sigh. 

"  Yes." 

But  she  would  not  aid  him  by  the  least  move 
ment.  The  boy  lay  heavily  against  her  breast,  her 
arm  was  round  him,  his  hand  in  hers.  Her  fear 
less  eyes  interrogated  Garthe's  as  he  bent  towards 
her,  but  his  did  not  make  response.  He  looked 
like  a  man  claiming  his  own.  Very  dexterously 
and  very  tenderly,  at  least  where  the  child  was 
concerned,  he  continued  to  draw  the  burden  away 
from  her.  One  might  have  seen  strange  pathos 
in  the  situation  :  mother  and  child  come  together 
by  strange  accident  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  for 
an  hour,  then  separated  by  this  remorseless  fate ; 
all  this  love,  sweetness,  clinging  need,  was  to  dis 
appear  and  leave  no  trace. 

"  Let  me  kiss  him  once  more,"  said  Bella.  She 
embraced  the  child  in  his  father's  clasp.  Garthe 
was  conscious  of  a  distinct  and  increasing  pressure 
of  her  hand  and  arm  upon  his  own  hand  and  arm. 

He  no  longer  delayed,  but,  lifting  the  recumbent 
figure  to  his  shoulder,  carried  the  little  fellow  out 
of  the  room. 


354      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

Amelia  was  in  the  hall. 

"  Shall  I  put  him  to  bed,  sir  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  will  carry  him  up  myself." 

At  the  top  of  the  flight  he  paused  and  waited 
far  Amelia. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  exclaimed  breathlessly,  "  has  she 
come  to  carry  him  off  ?  " 

All  the  blood  rushed  to  Garthe's  face. 

"  Carry  him  off  ?     Not  while  I  am  alive." 

"  Is  she  really  his  mother,  sir  ?  " 

"  She  is."  He  paused  a  moment,  then  went  on. 
"  It  is  better  that  you  should  understand  the  facts.  I 
married  her  when  I  was  twenty-three.  In  two  years 
she  left  me  for  another  man.  There  was  a  divorce." 

The  woman  vented  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  She  is  not  going  to  stay  here  and  live  with  you, 
then?" 

"  Stay  here  ?  "  a  whirlwind  of  anger  crossed  his 
face.  "  How  can  you  speak  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

"It  is  a  terribly  stormy  night,  sir,"  suggested 
Amelia,  with  a  manner  of  peculiar  significance. 
"  Button  was  saying  there  was  a  deep  drift  of  snow 
already  up  to  the  doorstep." 

Garthe  reflected  a  moment. 

"  I  suppose  Button  is  going  out." 

"  Yes,  sir,  after  a  little." 

"Tell  him  to  send  a  carriage  here, —  a  good, 
close  carriage  with  two  horses  ;  at  once,  as  soon 
as  possible.  But  no,  —  here,  take  the  boy,  Amelia; 
I  will  speak  to  Button  myself." 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  355 

Garthe  plunged  down  the  staircase.  His  mood 
was  combative.  If  for  an  hour  he  had  not  asserted 
his  right  to  put  distance  between  Larry  and  this 
woman,  any  hesitation,  any  indecision,  was  now  at 
an  end.  Out  of  sheer  tenderness  for  the  boy,  out 
of  a  dread  of  defining  the  situation  too  clearly,  of 
striking  some  jarring  chord  which  might  hurt  the 
boy  all  his  life,  he  had  abstained.  He  did  not  yet 
regret  it,  but  perhaps  he  had  made  a  mistake.  The 
feeling  was  strong  upon  him  now  that  he  must 
make  no  more  mistakes. 

When  he  reached  the  lower  floor  he  saw  that 
Bella  had  left  the  dining-room  and  now  stood  just 
over  the  threshold  of  the  library,  as  if  afraid  to 
advance.  Garthe  walked  along  the  hall,  summoned 
Button  from  the  pantry,  and  told  him  to  go  for 
a  carriage.  Then  without  a  moment's  pause  he 
entered  the  library  and  closed  the  door  from  the 
dining-room  behind  him. 

She  still  stood  as  if  uncertain  of  the  event. 

"  Am  I  to  be  sent  away  ? "  she  asked,  moving 
a  step  nearer  him,  and  looking  at  him  intently. 
Garthe  halted  at  a  pace's  distance  from  her. 

"  Button  will  go  for  a  carriage,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Before  it  comes  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  what  object 
you  had  in  coming  here.  I  am  anxious  to  know." 

"  Was  it  so  strange  I  should  wish  to  come  here  ?  " 

"  To  me,  very  strange." 

"  Strange  that  I  should  long  to  see  my  child  ?  " 

Her  face  with  all  its  glow  and  intensity  had  a 


35G      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

curious  expression  of  pain,  of  perplexity,  of  timid 
ity,  of  dependence. 

"  Very  strange,"  he  repeated. 

44  What  if  I  should  confess  I  had  some  desire 
also  to  see  you  ?  "  she  went  on. 

"  That  is  too  incredible." 

"  Incredible,"  she  repeated  with  a  little  laugh, 
yet  still  with  a  manner  which  suggested  that  his 
words  stung  her,  "  because  you  have  no  interest  in 
me,  no  curiosity  concerning  me." 

44  I  have  no  right  to  feel  any  interest  concerning 
you.  You  went  your  way,  and  God  forbid  that 
ever  with  my  most  idle  fancy  I  should  attempt  to 
follow  you.  My  only  curiosity  is  to  find  out  your 
reason  for  intruding  on  me  to-night,  in  order  that 
any  further  invasion  shall  be  out  of  the  question." 

She  retreated  a  step  as  he  spoke,  put  up  her 
hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

44  Can't  you  see  ?  "  he  went  on,  "  that  you  are  my 
worst  enemy  ?  After  the  ruin  you  have  brought 
upon  our  lives,  Larry's  and  mine,  you  ought  to  be 
satisfied.  The  sharper  the  scourge  to  me  the 
keener  your  exultation,  no  doubt ;  but  this  humilia 
tion  shall  not  be  repeated.  First,  let  me  under 
stand  what  you  want  of  me,  and  I  shall  then  know 
how  to  protect  myself." 

She  was  not  looking  at  him,  but  about  the  room, 
and  spoke  now  as  if  addressing  some  invisible  spec 
tator. 

44  He  tells  me  of  the  ruin  I  have  brought  upon 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  357 

his  life,  yet  here  he  lives  with  my  only  child,  and 
with  all  that  money  can  give  !  " 

"  Hitherto,  you  have  had  a  certain  sum  from  me 
each  month,"  Garthe  proceeded,  his  voice  never  ris 
ing  above  the  low,  impassive  note  he  had  first 
struck.  "  It  ought  to  provide  you  with  the  comforts 
of  life,  but  if  you  have  involved  yourself  in  debt  I 
will  help  you.  It  has  been  my  habit  to  limit  my 
own  wants  in  order  to  insure  comfort  for  the  boy." 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  kind,  so  hideously  kind,  so 
cold,  so  remote !  "  she  said.  "  I  should  suppose 
you  had  no  memory." 

"  I  have  too  much  memory." 

"  But,  after  all,  I  am  Larry's  mother." 

"  No  possible  plea  could  put  you  so  absolutely 
in  the  wrong.  Of  course,  you  are  Larry's  mother ; 
that  is  the  reason  I  have  so  far  borne  with  you." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  feel  any  pity  for  me." 

"  Why  should  I  pity  you  ?  " 

"  For  having  thrown  away  my  life  ;  for  having  in 
my  ignorance,  my  childishness,  believed  that  some 
where  outside  of  my  life  with  you  lay  what  I 
thought  I  longed  for.  Think  how  young  I  was, 
how  crude.  That  callous,  untaught  creature  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  woman  I  am  now.  •  I  do  not 
know  her,  I  despise  her,  I  disown  her ;  yet  I  have 
to  bear  the  sins  she  committed,  have  to  be  everlast 
ingly  the  victim  of  her  folly  and  wickedness.  I 
have  to  go  on  and  finish  the  life  she  spoiled  for  me0" 

Bella,  as  she  spoke,  had  retreated  from  him  step 


358      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

by  step,  and  now  turned  to  the  end  of  the  mantel 
piece,  put  her  hands  on  it,  and  dropped  her  head 
upon  them.  Garthe  stood  stupefied  and  incredu 
lous,  looking  at  her.  Her  tones  and  gestures  sug 
gested  tragic  acting,  yet  her  words  brought  up  a 
crowd  of  suggestions. 

"  Do  not  expect  pity  from  me,  of  all  men,"  he 
said.  "  Turn  to  some  of  the  others." 

"  Don't  insult  me,"  she  said,  with  a  sob,  and  her 
whole  figure  shook  with  emotion. 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  insulting  you.  I  wished 
to  emphasize  the  fact  that  you  were  once  my  wife, 
that  now  you  are  not  my  wife,  and  that  there  is 
just  that  bar  in  the  way  of  your  counting  on  my 
pity  and  sympathy." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  realize  that  when  a  woman 
loves  a  man  as  I " 

"  Don't  tell  me  you  love  me,  that  you  ever  loved 
me,"  he  said  peremptorily.  "You  took  me  at  a 
moment  when  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  offer  you 
something  to  your  liking,  then  when  you  were  dis 
appointed  you  flung  me  aside.  Nothing  held  you, 
no  habit,  no  instinct,  no  common  loyalty,  certainly 
no  love.  Forgive  my  seeming  brutal,  —  I  have  no 
wish  to  be  cruel.  I  only  wish  to  show  you  that 
facts  are  inexorable  things." 

She  raised  her  head,  turned  slowly,  and  looked  at 
him. 

"  I  did  love  you,"  she  said  excitedly.  "  You  are 
the  only  man  I  ever  loved." 


.   A  DEEAM  COME  TRUE.  359 

She  said  it  quite  simply,  but  the  glow  and  fire 
of  her  eyes  and  lips  made  the  words  appear  as  if 
she  flung  them  out  from  a  passion  too  strong  to  be 
suppressed  or  concealed.  He  could  see  her  hands 
tremble,  he  could  see  the  convulsive  quivering  of 
her  lips.  It  was  this  suggestion  of  womanly  weak 
ness  that  set  his  heart  beating. 

"  What  a  man  does  not  understand,"  she  went 
on,  "is  that  a  woman  wants  to  be  sure  of 'his  love, — 
that  she  is  tempted  to  put  it  to  strange  trials." 

He  had  regained  his  equilibrium. 

"  You  put  my  love  to  such  incredible  trials  that 
no  wonder  it  did  not  survive  the  test,"  he  said 
calmly. 

"  Then  you  never  loved  me  !  " 

"  Possibly  not ;  I  was  a  boy  —  a  boy  of  strong 
imagination.  Say  I  never  loved  you." 

"  But  you  did  love  me,"  she  cried  impetuously. 
"  Unless  I  had  had  that  recollection  to  live  on  I 
should  have  died  long  ago.  You  loved  me  dearly, 
Lawrence,  —  you  cannot  deny  it." 

"  Have  it  as  you  will." 

"  You  loved  me  with  all  your  heart,  as  a  man  can 
love  but  once  in  his  life.  A  woman  does  not  for 
get,"  —  she  made  a  step  towards  him.  "  I  am 
about  ready  to  believe,"  she  whispered,  "that  you 
love  me  still." 

"  Have  it  any  way  that  pleases  you  ;  I  have  no 
inclination  to  test  my  feelings,  past  or  present, 
towards  you.  There  is  the  stubborn,  unalterable 


360      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

fact  that  we  arc  divorced.  What  use  you  made  of 
your  freedom  I  never  inquired.  If  I  could  love  a 
woman  who  vanished  into  darkness,  —  thick  uncom 
promising  darkness  I  can  have  no  wish  to  pene 
trate,  —  I  must  be  a  fool,  doomed  to  illusion." 

"  I  am  a  widow,"  she  said,  lifting  her  head. 

"  A  widow  ?  "  he  repeated,  as  if  incredulous. 

"  I  am  the  widow  of  Aurelio  Hernandez,  who 
died  a  year  and  a  half  ago." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Gar  the  with  a  shrug,  as  if  still 
skeptical.  "  I  recall  Hartley's  speaking  of  his  hav 
ing  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Mrs.  Hernandez, 
but  I  did  not  suspect  that  you  were  she." 

"  You  have  heard,  then,  of  the  rich  Mrs.  Her- 
nandoz,"  she  said  with  singular  complacency. 

"  Yes,  I  had  heard  of  the  rich  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez." 

"  Yet  you  thought  I  came  to  you  as  a  beggar," 
she  laughed.  "  Go  ask  my"  lawyer  and  my  bank 
ers  if  I  need  an  extra  hundred  or  so  a  month." 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  having  attained  your  am 
bition,"  he  said  quietly.  It  was  clear  that  she  was 
reinstated  in  her  own  esteem,  now  that  she  could 
appear  under  her  true  colors,  and  as  if  with  an  air 
of  relief  at  being  through  with  playing  a  part  she 
sank  languidly  and  gracefully  into  a  chair  before 
the  fire. 

46  You  remember,"  she  said,  leaning  back  and 
glancing  at  him,  "that  I  always  wanted  to  be 
rich." 


A  DEE  AM  COME  TRUE.  361 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that  you  always  wanted  to  be 
rich." 

"  Ah,  you  remember  ;  "  she  clasped  her  hands  at 
the  back  of  her  head,  and  looked  up  into  his  face. 
The  attitude,  the  smile,  the  tone  of  familiarity,  ad 
dressed  his  consciousness.  She  went  on  :  "I  always 
wanted  to  be  rich, — I  thought  the  having  what 
one  wanted  the  end  of  existence.  Now,  I  see  the 
facts  of  life  more  clearly.  Do  you  remember  a  red 
frock  you  brought  me  from  Frisco?  " 

He  was  fretted  by  this  personal  tone, —  by  this 
breaking  down  of  barriers,  by  this  intimacy.  She 
saw  that  he  flushed. 

"Nothing  ever  pleased  me  so  much  as  that 
frock,"  she  said.  "  Now-a-days,  I  have  big  boxes 
of  clothes  from  Paris,  but  I  would  give  anything 
for—" 

She  had  put  up  her  hand  and  touched  his  arm. 

He  broke  through  the  net  in  which  he  was  half 
entangled. 

"What  can  be  the  use  of  this?"  he  asked. 
"  Looked  at  simply  from  the  point  of  good  taste 
such  reminiscences  are  abhorrent." 

"  Oh,  you  are  hard,  hard,  hard,"  she  cried.  "  If 
somehow  I  could  reach  you,  —  speak  to  your  heart." 

He  began  to  pace  the  room.  She  sprang  up  and 
blocked  his  path.  "You  want  this  ended,"  she 
said. 

"  Yes  ;  since  you  are  so  rich,  you  cannot  have 
come  to  me  for  more  money." 


362      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  No,  I  did  not  come  for  money." 

"  Yet  I  suppose  there  is  something." 

"  Yes  ;  I  want  you  to  give  Larry  to  me." 

"  I  give  Larry  to  you  ?  " 

His  tone  and  look  implied  that  what  she  asked 
was  not  only  impossible,  but  inconceivable.  Yet  at 
the  same  moment  it  was  clear  from  his  change  of 
color,  from  the  flash  of  his  eye,  that  she  had  for  the 
first  time  touched  him  to  the  quick,  —  had  indeed 
alarmed  him.  Not  that  in  measuring  himself 
against  her  he  found  her  a  dangerous  adversary, 
but  he  had  become  conscious  of  her  inexhaustible 
resources.  What  an  ingenious  diversity  of  tricks, 
what  clever  feints, —  and  what  well-dealt  blows ! 

"  No,"  he  added ;  "  I  shall  not  give  Larry  to  you." 

But  she  saw  that  she  had  roused  something  in 
him  which  had  not  hitherto  leaped  into  life,  and 
what  had  at  the  moment  been  a  mere  dexterous  turn 
ing  of  the  subject,  became  all  at  once  a  powerful 
lever  in  her  hands. 

"  But  I  could  do  so  much  for  him,"  she  said. 
"  He  shall  have  every  advantage  that  my  wealth 
can  give  him." 

Garthe  made  a  gesture. 

"  I  should  rather  have  him  brought  up  in  the 
direst  poverty." 

"  But  he  loves  me !  "  she  pleaded  with  an  appeal 
ing  face  and  accent. 

"  He  knows  no  evil  yet.  He  is  ready  to  love  all 
the  world." 


A  DREAM  COME  TRUE.  363 

"  Keep  him  from  all  knowledge  of  evil,"  she  said 
more  and  more  timidly  and  eloquently.  "  He  did 
love  me  ;  you  saw  that  his  heart  went  out  to  me. 
He  has  need  of  me." 

"  He  has  had  need  of  a  mother,  but  you  failed 
him." 

"  I  will  make  up  to  him.  I  will  atone.  It  is  all 
I  ask  for,  all  I  want  to  do.  Why  might  it  not  be 
possible  — 

He  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"  Why  might  not  what  be  possible  ?  " 

"  For  me  to  live  here." 

They  faced  each  other  in  silence,  —  that  ques 
tion  between  them. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    TEST. 

"  I  CAN  hardly  suppose  that  you  are  in  earnest," 
Garthe  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Nothing  could  be 
more  absolutely  impossible." 

"  But  look  at  it  from  a  practical  point  of 
view." 

"  I  will  not  look  at  it  from  any  point  of  view," 
he  cried. 

"  But  I  am  his  mother,"  she  went  on  speaking, 
always  softly,  as  if  treading  in  a  sacred  place  ;  "  no 
other  woman  can  be  his  mother.  You  are  no 
longer  a  boy  ;  you  can  look  at  things  from  a  man  of 
the  world's  standpoint.  I  could  do  so  much  for  you 
both !  We  could  be  legally  re-united  ;  nobody  " 

He  shuddered,  his  face  darkened. 

"  Drop  the  subject,"  he  said  imperiously. 

"  Of  course  it  startles  you  at  first,"  she  went  on 
softly  and  persuasively,  "  but  it  is  the  best  thing 
that  can  happen  to  all  three  of  us.  The  whole 
arrangement  should  be  on  the  terms  which  pleased 
you.  I  would  make  no  demands,  insist  on  nothing. 
I  would  accept  anything,  bear  with  anything  for 
the  sake  of  having  Larry  ;  he  should  be  the  link 
between  us." 


A    TEST.  365 

If  for  a  moment  a  fit  of  savage  feeling  had  taken 
possession  of  him,  as  her  tone  softened  in  question 
ing,  as  she  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  of  absolute 
humility,  he  experienced  a  reaction.  Had  he  done 
her  injustice  ?  Was  she  actually  in  earnest  ? 

"  Of  course,"  she  proceeded,  "  everything  would 
be  for  his  sake.  I  should  not  for  a  moment  be 
lieve  that  you  did  it  for  mine ;  I  should  know  that 
you  did  not  love  me,  that  you  could  never  love  me, 
but  I  should  try  possibly  to  teach  you  to  believe 
in  me,  —  to  show  you  that  I  am  not  wholly  the  poor 
creature  you  take  me  for.  I  ask  for  nothing  ex 
cept  to  be  here  in  the  same  house  with  you, 
seeing  you  or  not  seeing  you.  I  should  leave 
everything  to  your  generosity.  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  be  contented  if  I  had  the  chance  to  know 
something  of  you,  —  to  do  something  for  you.  It 
might  make  me  feel  that  after  all  my  life  had 
some  meaning,  some  centre ;  and  perhaps  —  I 
might  build  up  in  your  sight  a  character  which 
could  —  "  She  broke  off.  "But  no  matter,"  she 
went  on  in  a  different  voice.  "  It  is  no  question  of 
doing  anything  for  me.  But  even  you  must  feel  it 
is  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  Larry." 

"  I  do  not  admit  that,"  he  said  instantly. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  are  prejudiced  against  me, 
I  do  not  wonder  you  are  hard,  —  that  —  "  She 
came  towards  him.  Her  face  was  pale,  her  eyes 
were  brimming  with  tears.  "  I  suppose  what  you 
care  for  is  habit,  prosperity,  the  world's  opinion,- 


366      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

but  even  in  that  way  it  would  be  better  for  you 
both.  My  money  would  "  — 

"  Don't  allude  to  your  money,"  he  said.  "  I  do 
not  want  your  money,  either  for  myself  or  for 
Larry." 

"  I  know  you  do  not  want  it,  and  I  only 
mentioned  it  because  —  don't  you  see  my  real 
motive,  Lawrence  ?  Lawrence !  Lawrence  !  look 
at  me.  All  I  think  of  is  that—  She  had  put 
her  hand  on  his  arm ;  she  leaned  heavily  forward ; 
her  cheek  touched  his  shoulder. 

At  this  moment  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Garthe  had  stood  as  if  stupefied,  conscious  of  the 
thrill  of  feeling  which  passed  through  him,  but  of 
little  else.  At  this  sound,  he  put  the  form  which 
leaned  upon  him  more  and  more  heavily,  aside.  He 
drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  released  from  a  night 
mare.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said  to  Bella. 

"  Come  in,"  he  called,  and  Amelia  opened  the 
door,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  The  carriage  has  gone,  sir,"  she  said. 

"  The  carriage  gone  ?  "  stammered  Garthe. 

"  The  man  rang  the  bell  at  ten  o'clock,  to  say  he 
could  not  stay  any  longer  on  such  a  night,"  Amelia 
went  on.  "  I  told  him  to  wait,  and  you  would  pay 
him  well.  Then  at  half  past  ten  he  rang  again,  and 
said  for  no  money  would  he  let  the  horses  be  out 
until  after  eleven.  I  begged  him  to  wait  until 
eleven.  But  now  it  is  eleven  and  he  has  gone." 

"Gone?" 


A   TEST.  367 

"  Gone,  sir." 

"You  should  have  told  me  what  the  man  said." 

"  I  knocked,  sir ;  I  have  knocked  three  times,  but 
you  took  no  notice.  I  did  not  like  to  seem  to  dis 
turb  you,  sir,  when  you  had  a  strange  visitor." 

"There  must  be  another  carriage  at  once.  Is 
Button  here  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  this  is  his  night  for  duty  at  the  Denby." 

"  I  will  go  myself." 

"  I  don't  think,  sir,  you  could  get  a  carriage  for 
love  or  money,  at  this  time  of  night,  and  such  a 
dreadful  night.  The  drifts  are  higher  than  a  man's 
head." 

"  I  will  see." 

Garthe  had,  so  far,  spoken  and  acted  mechani 
cally,  and  it  was  not  until  he  crossed  the  room, 
walked  along  the  hall,  opened  first  the  door,  then 
the  outer  door  of  the  vestibule,  and  encountered 
the  icy  blast  and  a  swirl  of  snow,  that  his  brain 
cleared.  The  street  was  lighted  with  gas,  and  at 
the  corner  was  an  electric  lamp ;  he  seemed  to  be 
looking  into  a  white  mist,  —  so  dense  was  the  mass 
of  the  driven  snow.  As  he  opened  the  door,  a 
little  avalanche  had  swept  into  the  vestibule.  He 
stood  for  a  moment,  gazing  straight  before  him. 
He  saw,  as  by  a  blinding  flash,  the  whole  difficulty 
of  the  situation.  The  conviction  which  gained 
ground  in  some  recess  of  his  brain  was,  "She 
planned  it.  She  intended  that  just  this  should 
happen." 


368      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

lie  turned  round  before  he  saw  that  Bella  had 
put  on  her  wraps,  and  was  now  standing  just  be 
hind  him. 

44  Of  course  you  cannot  go,"  he  said.  44  The 
idea  is  absurd." 

44  But  I  must  go." 

44 1  do  not  think  it  would  be  possible  to  procure 
a  carriage.  Of  course  it  is  impossible  that  you 
should  go." 

44 1  can  walk  ;  I  am  strong,  I "  — 

Garthe  had  clanged  to  the  outside  door,  and  now, 
putting  a  hand  on  each  of  her  shoulders,  he  pressed 
her  forward  into  the  hall,  and  closed  the  inner 
door. 

44  It  is  utterly  out  of  the  question.  You  will 
stay  here  all  night.  Amelia,  take  this  lady  to  the 
room  above;  make  her  comfortable,  and  if  she 
wishes  it,  stay  with  her."  lie  glanced  towards 
Bella.  44  The  whole  second  floor  is  at  your  disposal," 
he  said.  44 1  will  bid  you  good-night." 

He  went  into  the  library,  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

Again,  from  some  corner  of  his  brain  came  that 
insistent  thought :  44  She  planned  it.  She  intended 
that  just  this  should  happen." 

He  locked  first  one  door  and  then  another,  as 
if  feeling  himself  beleaguered  by  foes.  Then  he 
stood  still  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  looked 
round  the  room,  as  if  trying  to  understand  where 
he  was,  what  he  was,  and  what  this  thing  was 


A    TEST.  369 

which  had  happened  to  him.  The  most  wretched 
thoughts  swarmed  in  his  mind,  reminiscences  of  the 
remote  past,  impressions  of  the  present.  Twice 
he  struck  his  forehead  with  his  clenched  fist,  as  if 
to  rouse  himself  from  dreams  to  actualities,  for  it 
seemed  impossible  to  think  coherently.  His  men 
tal  operations  consisted  of  mechanical  repetitions 
of  the  same  sentences :  "  She  planned  it ;  she  in 
tended  that  just  this  should  happen  ;  "  then  in  an 
other  tone,  "  It  shall  not  be,  it  shall  not  be,  it 
shall  not  be ; "  then  again,  "  Temptress,  shame 
less  !  "  All  the  recollections,  forecasts,  and  imagin 
ings  he  could  summon  seemed  to  be  comprised  in 
this  set  of  formulas,  which  he  went  through,  again 
and  again,  as  if  his  brain  revolved  in  the  same  cir 
cle  of  images,  impressions,  —  as  if  introspection 
meant  nothing  to  him  but  this  sequence  of  ideas. 
He  recalled  the  moment  of  his  entering  the  house 
that  evening ;  the  feeling  of  shame  and  horror  with 
which  the  image  of  that  woman  took  shape  out  of 
the  firelight  and  shadows  in  this  room  ;  his  feeling 
that  he  was  at  another  crisis  of  his  fate,  —  a  man 
pushed  by  destiny.  Had  he  been  weak  ?  Had  he 
permitted  himself  to  be  mastered  by  his  imagina 
tion  ?  Had  he  lacked  decision  and  judgment,  self- 
control  ?  Had  his  concession,  his  magnanimity, 
been  an  apology  for  cowardice  ?  At  this  moment, 
humiliated,  perplexed,  with  all  his  lights  astray, 
he  was  ready  to  accuse  himself  of  any  weakness. 
Once  before  she  had  dragged  him  through  the  dust, 


370      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

but  it  seemed  to  him  now,  looking  back,  that 
through  that  ordeal  he  had  walked  proudly  and 
easily.  Then  he  had  felt  that  magnanimity,  that 
generosity  was  irreconcilable  with  his  self-respect ; 
then  he  had  not  told  himself  that  a  false  wife  was 
a  mere  accidental  obstacle  in  a  man's  path,  which 
a  little  legal  tinkering  could  do  away  with.  No, 
then  he  would  have  no  part  or  lot  with  the  evil 
thing.  This  feeling  of  humiliation,  of  having  been 
thrown  out  of  his  path,  of  not  being  wholly  master 
of  himself,  pressed  upon  him. 

"  Temptress !  Shameless  one  !  "  he  ejaculated, 
with  a  gesture  as  if  shaking  off  a  hateful  thing. 

But  although  he  uttered  these  words  aloud, 
although  he  kept  his  mind  fixed  on  the  clear  facts 
of  his  own  history,  and  this  inevitable  sequence,  he 
was  conscious  that  he  did  this  in  order  to  push 
away  a  rush  of  ideas  still  more  intolerable.  So  far 
he  had  not  dared  to  think  of  his  own  lost  happiness, 
of  the  crushing  shame  he  felt  at  the  thought  that 
the  girl  he  loved  must  hear  of  what  had  befallen 
him. 

Then  suddenly  he  fell  on  his  knees. 

"  Constance !  Constance  !  Constance  !  "  he  said, 
under  his  breath.  He  bent  his  head  forward  on 
some  chance  support,  and  remained  there  fixed  and 
motionless.  The  heart  in  the  man  cried  out  at 
last  with  a  sense  of  pain,  of  disappointment,  which 
could  no  longer  be  deadened,  and  along  with  it, 
rage  against  himself,  remorse  even.  He  had  not 


A    TEST.  371 

been  truthful  and  candid  ;  he  had  not  been  faithful 
to  the  rules  which  had  for  years  been  the  guide  of 
his  life  ;  and  for  these  omissions  there  is  a  price 
which  the  gods  exact.  He  did  not  for  a  moment 
palter  with  the  plain  fact  that  he  had  lost  Con 
stance  ;  any  other  idea  was  wholly  irrational.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  for  a  moment,  revolving 
the  situation  in  his  mind.  She  must  hear  of  this 
woman  now ;  the  fact  would  be  notorious,  —  her  en 
trance  into  his  house,  her  staying  under  the  same 
roof  with  him.  The  news  was  sure  to  be  told,  and 
such  a  bit  of  gossip  is  at  once  a  devouring  dragon. 
No  man  can  cope  with  it.  It  was  horrible  to  pic 
ture  the  facts  as  they  must  be  imparted  to  her.  It 
was  inconceivable  that  she  should  ever  again  re 
gard  him  with  kind  feelings.  He  saw  all  the  con 
sequences  at  a  glance.  She  was  a  sweet  woman,  a 
pure  woman,  a  saint ;  but  such  was  the  situation,  — 
there  was  no  possible  justification  for  him.  And 
indeed,  where  else  should  chastisement  fall,  except 
on  him  ? 

Yet  he  suffered  as  he  thought  of  her  belief  in 
him,  so  frankly,  so  generously  avowed,  going  to 
death.  He  stretched  out  his  arms,  as  if  he  felt  a 
longing  to  escape  from  fetters.  A  wife  playing  the 
part  of  returned  prodigal !  A  wife  he  seemed  not 
to  have  rejected  !  Could  it  be  that  this  thing  had 
happened  to  him  ?  That,  entangled,  as  by  the  cun 
ning  of  the  devil,  he  was  henceforth  to  be  bound  ? 
That  this  odious  and  impossible  relation  was  to  be 


372      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

no  casual  thing,  but  the  wretched  law  of  his  life  ? 
He  felt  his  head  swim  round.  He  became  conscious 
of  intense  weariness.  "  Let  me  sleep  a  little  and 
wake  up  sane.  I  have  no  longer  any  judgment,"  he 
muttered,  under  his  breath,  and  threw  himself  at 
full  length  on  the  sofa,  crossing  his  arms  above  his 
head.  He  closed  his  eyes,  but  the  moment  he  was 
in  an  attitude  of  rest,  he  was  wide  awake.  "  My 
life  is  ruined,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  live  for, — everything  is  at  an  end." 
But  the  thought  of  Larry  smote  him.  "  I  must  go 
on  for  Larry's  sake.  I  will  take  him  and  go  to 
Europe."  Yet  on  the  moment,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  the  arguments  Bella  had  brought  forward  had 
some  force.  If  Larry  were  never  to  hear  that  his 
mother  had  been  a  disgrace  to  him,  if  he  coidd 
grow  up,  feeling  that  there  was  no  shameful  secret 
to  conceal,  that  his  mother  was  in  the  same  house, 
that  she  was  good  to  him,  that  he  had  a  duty  to 
her,  —  it  might  be  better  for  the  boy.  No  fiction 
of  himself  being  free  could  be  sustained  with  this 
accursed  fate  hanging  over  him.  Should  he  say  to 
her  :  "  Stay  here  if  you  like  and  on  any  terms  you 
like,  only  do  not  expect  ever  that  I  shall  do  other 
wise  than  suffer  you  for  Larry's  sake  ?  " 

So  ran  his  thoughts  in  shame,  in  disdain,  in  rage, 
feeling  as  if,  in  this  world,  where  there  is  the  same 
punishment  for  our  ignorant  mistakes  as  for  our 
sins,  to  dogmatize  on  any  subject  is  a  waste  of 
breath ;  it  becomes  at  last  the  only  wisdom  simply 


A   TEST.  373 

to  acquiesce  in  what  seems  likely  to  spare  any  one 
pain.  What  he  hated  most  might  be  so  inter- 
volvcd  with  benefits  for  another  that  his  own 
misery  could  be  no  reason  for  rejecting  anything 
that  fate  could  impose.  His  ideas  wandered;  he 
felt  himself  sinking  into  slumber.  Suddenly,  just 
as  he  was  becoming  unconscious,  he  was  startled 
by  a  sound.  It  seemed  far  off,  but,  nevertheless, 
it  made  him  spring  up  with  a  sensation  like  that 
of  a  sentinel  who  is  in  danger  of  being  accused  of 
deserting  his  post. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.     "  Who  is  there  ?  " 

"  Let  me  in,"  said  a  soft  voice  with  an  appealing 
accent. 

He  stood  gazing  at  the  door  a  moment  without 
moving  or  speaking.  He  could  see  that  the  knob 
was  turned  from  without,  —  he  could  hear  the 
sound  of  something  pressing  against  it. 

His  feeling  was  that  this  was  what  he  had  ex 
pected.  He  experienced  no  astonishment,  but  he 
felt  that  it  was  the  evil  spirit  of  his  life  that 
approached  him  and  that  he  had  to  contend  with,  — 
a  hateful  thing,  at  once  a  part  of  himself  and  no 
part  of  himself ;  seductive  to  sense,  yet  hostile ; 
something  to  conquer,  to  fling  off ;  something  not 
to  be  tampered  with. 

He  opened  the  door. 

Bella  stood  there.  He  moved  aside  and  she  entered 
the  room.  There  was  a  look  about  her  of  woman 
ish,  almost  childish,  weakness  and  appealingness. 


374      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  G.1RTHE. 

"  The  wind  howls  so,"  she  said  timidly,  as  if 
ill-assured  of  her  welcome,  "  I  could  not  sleep." 

She  had  removed  her  dress  and  had  wrapped 
herself  in  some  kind  of  rich  Oriental  rug  or 
blanket,  which  Garthe  recognized  as  belonging  to 
a  couch  in  his  room. 

She  looked  up  at  him.  "  I  heard  you  moving 
about,"  she  observed.  "  I  felt  that  you  too  were 
restless,  — perhaps  unhappy." 

"  I  was,  on  the  contrary,  fast  asleep  when  you 
tried  the  door,"  said  Garthe.  "  I  should  advise 
you  to  go  back  to  your  room." 

"  You  were  asleep ! "  she  said  reproachfully. 
"  And  I  —  I  could  not  sleep.  The  room  seemed  to 
be  haunted." 

"Very  likely." 

"  I  asked  myself,  did  you  and  I  belong  to  the 
living,  breathing  world,  yet  were  so  estranged  ?  " 

He  gave  her  a  strange  look. 

"I  cannot  believe  in  this  attitude  of  cold  dis 
tance,"  she  said  softly. 

She  came  nearer. 

"  I  can't  bear  this  intolerable  sense  of  isolation," 
she  said.  "  I  know  it  comes  from  my  own  wicked 
ness  and  folly,  but  I  can't  bear  it.  I  want  some 
how  to  be  forgiven.  I  must  be  forgiven,  —  I  will 
be  forgiven.  Something  in  me  cries  out  for  your 
forgiveness,  —  a  yearning  which  puts  me  beside 
myself." 

But  the  mind  she  was  addressing  had  regained 


A   TEST.  375 

its  equilibrium.  At  the  present  moment  he  saw 
before  and  after. 

"  I  advise  you  to  go  back  instantly  to  your 
room,"  he  said.  "  Am  I  so  weak  a  thing  as  you 
take  me  to  be  ?" 

"  Are  you  measuring  your  strength  against 
mine,  a  weak  woman  ?  " 

"I  am  measuring  my  patience,  which  has  its 
limits." 

"  Do  not  say  so."  She  came  towards  him, 
fixing  her  beautiful,  dreamy  eyes  on  his.  She 
counted  with  assurance  on  his  yielding,  but  he 
met  her  glance  with  a  sort  of  fury. 

"  You  can  stay  here,"  he  said.  "  I  have  some 
times  said  to  myself  that  the  earth  itself  is  not 
wide  enough  for  you  and  me.  Certainly  this  house 
is  too  narrow." 

He  walked  straight  out  of  the  room  and,  not 
even  taking  hat  or  coat,  straight  out  of  the  house. 
She  heard  the  outer  door  clang  after  him.  She 
followed  into  the  empty  hall,  opened  the  door, 
and  gazed  out  incredulously.  It  no  longer  snowed, 
and  she  could  see  his  footprints  on  the  drift  over 
the  threshold. 

She  shivered,  closed  the  door,  turned  back,  and 
sat  down  before  the  fire.  "  He  hates  me,  that  is 
clear,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  but  I  have  spoiled  his 
peace  of  mind  for  a  day  or  two,  that  is  also  evident." 

She  leaned  forward  and  held  out  her  hands  to 
the  coals. 


376      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  He  will  take  a  bad  cold,"  she  murmured,  aud 
laughed  softly.  Yet  she  did  not  feel  altogether 
triumphant.  The  most  contradictory  feelings 
crowded  upon  her.  Now  that  the  experiment  had 
in  some  measure  failed,  she  was  ready  to  reproach 
herself  for  having  been  abrupt,  alarming,  warning 
the  touch  before  she  won  the  sense.  But  he  was 
beyond  her ;  he  had  always  been  beyond  her.  She 
reflected  with  bitterness  that  he  was  faitliful  to 
that  other  woman,  and  a  vague  idea  came  into  her 
mind  which  set  her  pondering  things  anew. 
She  still  sat  over  the  fire,  thinking  it  not  wholly 
impossible  that  Garthe  would  return.  Presently 
she  found  that  she  had  dozed.  It  was  half  past 
one  o'clock.  The  events  of  the  evening  suddenly 
shone  before  her  in  a  clearer  light,  and  she 
laughed,  partly  at  herself  and  partly  with  a 
triumphant  consciousness  that  Garthe  had  been 
beaten  on  his  own  ground.  She  reviewed  certain 
scenes  between  them  with  some  complacency ;  then 
when  the  clock  struck  two  she  said  to  herself :  — 

"  I  may  as  well  go  to  bed.  Evidently  he  was 
quite  in  earnest.  He  will  not  come  back  until 
morning." 

And  she  went  slowly  upstairs. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MR.    MARCHMONT   FINDS   HIS   WAY   MADE   CLEAR. 

"  KATHLEEN,  when  I  was  a  youngster  I  had  my 
way  to  make  ;  I  had  my  art  to  put  all  my  cravings 
into ;  I  had  my  mother  and  sister  to  support,  and 
was  content  with  the  declaration  that  the  hour  of 
my  marriage  had  not  struck,  —  that  I  was  in  no 
haste.  But  when  Bernard  Garner  brought  you 
home  I  saw  why  it  was  that  I  had  not,  hitherto, 
thought  of  a  wife.  Something  in  the  trick  you 
had  of  blushing,  something  in  the  way  your  eye 
lids  fell,  in  the  way  you  used  your  little  hands, 
made  me  say  to  myself,  '  That  is  the  woman  with 
whom,  were  she  not  my  friend  Bernard's  wife,  I 
might  have  fallen  in  love.'  However,  you  were 
Bernard's  wife,  and  I  rejoiced  in  his  happiness, 
and  in  seeing  you  grow,  expand,  develop  into  a 
woman.  But  since  he  died  I  have  wondered  if  the 
feeling  I  have  had  for  you  so  long  were  simply  the 
test  of  my  friendship  and  of  my  loyalty.  I  have 
wondered  if  loving  you  with  downright  knowledge 
that  no  other  woman  has  ever  touched  my  heart, 
that  no  other  woman  ever  could  touch  my  heart, 
gave  me  the  right  now  —  four  years  and  more  after 
your  husband's  death  —  to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife." 


378      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

This  was  the  speech  which,  in  his  sleepless  night 
after  that  unlucky  Sunday  evening,  John  March- 
mont  had  learned  by  heart.  He  had  seen  how,  in 
spite  of  his  clear  purpose,  he  had  permitted  all 
sorts  of  trivial  obstacles  to  intervene  between  him 
and  Kathy,  while  Garthe,  although  equally  ham 
pered,  had,  with  the  easy  efficacy  of  youth, 
snatched  his  longed-for  moment  with  Constance. 
But  then  Constance  had  apprehended,  while  Kathy, 
blind,  deaf,  tied  to  foolish  decorums,  had  not  appre 
hended.  Doubtless,  John  Marchmont  confessed 
within  himself,  it  was  his  own  fault ;  he  was  old, 
wavering,  infirm  of  purpose.  It  was,  at  least, 
something  to  get  this  formula  by  heart.  It  gave 
him  a  feeling  of  being  ready  for  the  next  occasion. 
Yet  he  went  to  the  house  the  next  afternoon  and 
sat  dull,  inert,  speechless,  while  Kathy  entertained 
a  circle  of  visitors.  Tuesday  morning,  however,  he 
decided  that  he  would  speak  out  that  day  or  else 
forever  hold  his  peace.  He  dropped  in  at  the 
Garners'  soon  after  breakfast  and  found  Constance 
and  Kathleen  in  the  morning-room  upstairs.  The 
former  was  going  out,  but  Kathleen  was  sitting  in 
a  low  wicker  chair  with  blue  cushions,  before  a 
table,  arranging  bunches  of  violets  in  a  bowl. 

"Sit  down  and  spend  the  morning  with  me," 
she  said  on  the  instant.  "  Constance  has  an 
engagement.  I  was  wishing  you  would  come." 

Nothing  could  have  seemed  more  facile,  ready- 
made,  than  this  opportunity.  But  then  a  true 


MR.  MAECHMONT  FINDS  HIS   WAY  CLEAR.   379 

lover  recoils  before  the  facile,  the  ready-made,  as 
a  chef  before  a  prepared  sauce,  and  courts  diffi 
culty,  a  test  of  his  zeal  and  high  courage.  Perhaps 
for  this  reason  Mr.  Marchmont's  spirits  instantly 
deserted  him,  and  he  sat  down  speechless. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  well,"  Kathleen  said 
presently,  perceiving  the  weight  of  some  insistent 
thought  between  them.  "  You  are  restless ;  you 
seem  to  have  something  on  your  mind." 

"  Something  on  my  mind  ? "  repeated  John 
Marchmont  blankly.  The  fragrance  of  the  vio 
lets  seemed  to  go  to  his  head,  or  perhaps  it  was  the 
sight  of  Kathleen  in  her  plain  black  stuff  gown 
with  a  white  muslin  fichu  over  her  shoulders,  into 
the  knot  of  which,  where  the  ends  crossed  in  front, 
she  had  put  two  or  three  of  the  flowers. 

"  Something  on  my  mind  ? "  he  said  again. 
"  I  'm  always  thinking  of  one  thing  now-a-days. 
If  I  could  drop  it  and  take  up  some  new  idea  I 
might  have  a  chance  of  some  peace  and  comfort, 
but  not  with  this  thing  on  my  conscience." 

"  Dear  me !  You  have  n't  committed  a  crime,  I 
hope?" 

"  No,  I  have  not  committed  a  crime." 

"  I  'in  sure  you  are  not  in  debt." 

"  Mrs.  Challoner  seems  to  consider  that  I  am." 

"Mrs.  Challoner  says  you  are  in  debt?" 

"  Yes  ;  that  is,  she  says  I  do  not  fulfill  my  duty." 

"  Your  duty  ?     What  sort  of  duty  ?  " 

"  What  she  calls  a  man's  first  duty." 


380      THE  STOKY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"To  love  God  and  keep  his  commandments ?" 

u  Perhaps,  then,  it  is   the   second  duty  of  man 
I  fail  in." 

"  I  do  not  seem  to  remember  what  a  man's 
second  duty  is,"  said  Kathy,  puzzled. 

"She  declares  that  I  ought  to  marry,"  mur 
mured  John  Marchmont,  his  face  crimson. 

"Marry?  You  marry?"  repeated  Kathy.  in 
consternation. 

"  Yes,  I  marry.  Does  the  idea  strike  you  as 
ridiculous  ?  " 

"  Does  she  say  that  you  ought  to  marry  anybody 
in  particular  ?  " 

"  And  pray,  my  dear  Mrs.  Garner,  how  could  I 
marry  anybody  in  general?  She  wants  me  to 
marry  somebody  very  particular,  so  particular  that 
I  am  afraid." 

"  Afraid?  afraid  she  won't  have  you  ?" 

"  Exactly.  Afraid  she  will  consider  me  a  pre 
sumptuous  old  fool." 

"  She  ought  to  jump  at  you.  I  am  certain  she 
will  jump  at  you.  I  suppose  you  mean  Miss  Shep- 
ard,"  murmured  Kathy  dolorously. 

"  Miss  Shepard  ?     What  Miss  Shepard  ?  " 

"  Miss  Shepard,  the  emancipator  of  women." 

"  You  don't  suppose  I  wish  to  marry  an  emanci 
pator  of  women  ?  " 

"  You  spoke  of  its  being  somebody  so  superior, 
and  I  recollect  that  you  told  me  Miss  Shepard 
seemed  to  you  deadly  superior." 


MB.   MARCHMONT  FINDS  HIS   WAY  CLEAR.    381 

"  I  perceive  that  you  consider  Miss  Shepard  of 
suitable  age  and  attractions  for  an  old  fellow  like 
me." 

"  Is  it  anybody  younger,  then  ? "  demanded 
Kathleen,  with  new  energy,  a  spot  of  vivid  color 
by  this  time  burning  on  each  cheek. 

"  Younger,  I  should  hope ;  more  attractive,  I 
should  insist." 

"  How  young  ?  " 

"  Very  young,"  with  a  sigh  ;  "  far  too  young  for 
a  grizzled  old  ogre." 

"  I  don't  feel  sure  what  you  mean  by  young," 
said  Kathleen,  evidently  disturbed  in  mind.  "  Am 
I  young,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Passably  young." 

"  Is  she  younger  than  I  am  ?  " 

"Let  me  see,  Kathleen,  how  old  are  you?" 

"Twenty-eight  and  six  months." 

"  She  is  certainly  no  older  than  you  are." 

"  Is  she  pretty  ?  " 

"  The  prettiest  woman  I  know." 

"  I  see,  it  is  Blanche  Challoner,"  said  Kathy, 
growing  pale,  her  lips  quivering  slightly.  "  Well, 
I  wish  you  joy." 

"Wish  me  joy?" 

"  But  I  do  feel  that  you  ought  to  have  told  me 
before,"  she  said  piteously. 

"  Told  you  what  ?  " 

"  That  you  were  going  to  be  married." 

"  I  have  not  said  I  was  going  to  be  married.     I 


382      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

only  remarked  that  Mrs.  Challoner  insisted  upon 
it." 

"  Then  you,  yourself,  in  your  own  heart,  don't 
really  care  about  it,"  cried  Kathleen,  more  hope 
fully. 

"  Indeed,  I  want  it  with  all  my  heart  and  soul," 
said  John  Marchmont.  "  I  am  like  the  baby  after 
Pears'  soap  ;  I  shan't  be  happy  until  I  get  it.  Don't 
you  approve  of  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  so  strange,  —  it 's  so  upsetting  —  " 

"  That  I  should  try  to  be  happy  like  other 
people?" 

"  But  then  we  were  n't  put  into  the  world  sim 
ply  to  be  happy,"  said  Kathleen,  with  solemnity. 
44  There 's  something  better  than  happiness." 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  know  what  it  is." 

44  And  then,"  pursued  Kathy  ardently,  "  people 
are  not  necessarily  happy  because  they  are  mar 
ried.  I  think  the  feeling  that  marriage  is  a  failure 
is  becoming  more  and  more  general." 

44 1  'm  willing  to  take  the  risks  if  she  will." 

44  Don't  say  so  !  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you  say 
so.  Don't  tell  her  so,"  cried  Kathy. 

44  Tell  whom  ?  " 

44  Blanche.  She  is  not  the  wife  for  you.  She  is 
beautiful,  she  dresses  well,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
marry  her.  There !  " 

44 1  tell  you  what,  Kathleen,  the  fellow  who  wins 
Blanche  Challoner  ought  to  be  a  very  proud  and 
happy  man." 


MR.  MAECHMONT  FINDS  HIS   WAY  CLEAE.    383 

"  Perhaps  he  ought,"  she  murmured.  Theret 
were  clear  signs  of  a  conflict  of  feeling  going  on 
within  her.  She  was  alternately  flushed  and  pale, 
—  her  lips  set  constantly  in  a  grieved  curve ; 
something  like  a  sob  came  now  and  then.  "I 
admit,"  she  said  reluctantly,  "  Blanche  is  splendid 
for  dinner  parties, —  she  sets  off  the  table,  and  she 
does  look  magnificent  on  a  coach." 

"  Well,  what  else  should  I  want  of  a  wife,"  de 
manded  John  Marchmont,  "  except  to  gild  my  de 
clining  years  with  dinner  and  coaching  parties  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  have  supposed  you  cared  for  such 
foolish,  worldly  things  at  all." 

u  What  do  I  care  about,  then,  Kathleen  ?" 

Their  eyes  met,  and  a  direct  answer  to  his  ques 
tion  seemed  to  leap  from  hers,  but  she  swerved 
away  with  a  slight  air  of  embarrassment.  He  had 
started  up  as  they  talked,  and  had  been  walking 
about  the  room,  but  now  sat  down  beside  her,  and 
she  leaned  forward  and  put  a  finger  on  his  sleeve. 

"  I  've  thought  of  you  there  at  Bowhill  all  alone," 
she  said  coaxingly.  "  I  often  say  to  myself  or  to 
Constance  on  rainy  days  or  at  twilight  that  Mr. 
Marchmont  must  be  lonely." 

"  Set  your  mind  at  rest  about  that.  I  am 
lonely." 

She  went  on.  "  And  I  have  wished  I  were  there 
to  amuse  you.  For  I  don't  care  whom  you  may 
be  in  love  with,  or  whom  you  may  marry,  I  can 
amuse  you  better  than  anybody  else.  There ! " 


384      THE  STORY  OF  LAWEENCE  GARTHE. 

Having  launched  this  thunderbolt,  she  paused  and 
waited  to  see  the  effect  of  her  words.  "  I  know  just 
how  to  amuse  you,"  she  then  proceeded  with  clear 
defiance.  "I  could  amuse  you  a  thousand  times 
better  than  Blanche.  I  know  I  have  n't  been  asked 
to  amuse  you,  but  I  could." 

Nothing  could  well  have  surprised  John  March- 
mont  more  than  the  role  imposed  upon  him.  Kath 
leen  went  on  with  the  air  of  a  coaxing  child. 

"I  always  thought  you  liked  me  better  than 
Blanche  Challoner,"  she  murmured  with  clear 
grievance. 

u  I  do  like  you,"  said  John  Marchmont. 

"  Say  you  like  me  better  than  Blanche  Chal 
loner,"  she  murmured  imploringly. 

"  I  like  you  better  than  forty  thousand  Blanche 
Challoners." 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,  yet  you  want  to  marry  her  !  It 's 
immoral." 

"  No  use  trying  to  get  you  to  marry  me,"  said 
John  Marchmont.  "  You  don't  care  a  button  about 
me." 

"  I  do,  —  I  do  care." 

"Not  a  bit.  You  may  like  to  flatter  me,  and 
make  a  fool  of  me,  but  if  I  were  to  give  you  my 
heart  in  a  bonbon  box,  tied  -up  with  ribbon,  you 
would  eat  it,  probably  making  a  grimace  over  the 
musty  flavor.  That  would  be  the  end  of  it." 

"  It  would  n't,  —  it  could  n't." 

"  You  would  n't  give  me  your  heart  back." 


ME.  MARCHMONT  FINDS  HIS   WAY  CLEAR.    885 

"  Yes,  I  would." 

"  How  many  times  have  you  told  me  you  had  lost 
that  heart  of  yours  ?  That  you  had  given  it  away 
to  women,  children,  actors,  actresses,  singers,  orches 
tra  leaders,  horses,  dogs,  cats.  Just  remember  Mrs. 
Challoner's  brother." 

"It  was  nothing,  —  just  a  phrase,  —  just  some 
thing  to  take  up  with  for  the  moment,  —  just  some 
thing  to  hide  the  fact  from  myself  that  I  was  lonely, 
had  nothing,  had  lost  everything." 

"  How  about  Ferdinand  Hartley  ?  Examine  your 
conscience." 

"  It  was  just  a  fad  —  like  china-painting." 

"Am  I  —  different?" 

"Oh,  so  different." 

"You  put  strange  ideas  into  my  head.  Now  if 
you  could  be  serious  one  minute,  Kathleen  " 

"  I  am  serious.     I  am  dreadfully  serious." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  actually  you  are  lonely?" 

"Ye-es." 

"  That  —  that  you  would  be  willing  to  come  out 
to  Bowhill  and  live  with  me  ?  "  said  John  March- 
mont,  conscious  of  a  quickening  of  his  blood,  a 
momentary  blurring  of  his  vision,  as  he  leaned 
forward  and  put  a  hand  on  each  of  her  shoulders. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  come  ?  " 

"  A  little." 

"  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  come  ?  " 

"  I  will  give  you  a  pair  of  " 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  you  to  give  me  " 


386      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GAIiTHE. 

"Well,  what?" 

"  Your  heart." 

Five  minutes  later  John  Marchmont  was  filled 
with  the  exhilaration  of  a  schoolboy,  and  Kathy 
looked  frightened  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  half 
unhappy. 

44  You  won't  tell  Constance,"  she  said  pleadingly. 

"  Not  tell  Constance  we  are  going  to  be  mar 
ried?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that.  People  will  have  to 
know  that,  and  I  shall  be  rather  proud.  Don't  tell 
her  that— " 

"  That  what  ?  " 

"  That  I  —  almost  asked  you  " 

"  That  you  quite  asked  me,  —  that  you  insisted 
upon  it  and  had  to  reconcile  me  to  the  idea.  No, 
perhaps  we  may  as  well  keep  that  to  ourselves,  and 
in  time  I  may  forgive  you." 

44  But,  John,  you  are  sure  you  would  rather 
marry  me  than  Blanche  Challoner  ?  " 

44  Oh,  yes.     Sure." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FERDINAND   HARTLEY'S   AMBITION. 

MRS.  HERNANDEZ  reentered  her  rooms  at  the 
Percy  towards  noon  on  the  day  following  her 
interview  with  Lawrence  Garthe.  Miss  Shepard 
had  gone,  the  day  before,  to  Philadelphia,  on  some 
mission,  and  had  not  yet  returned.  The  place 
looked  cold  and  lifeless.  Bella  had  a  strange 
sense  of  the  emptiness  and  dreariness  of  things  in 
general.  There  seemed  no  longer  to  be  anything 
to  look  forward  to.  She  felt  as  if  brought  up 
suddenly  against  a  blank  wall.  She  had  awak 
ened  at  ten  o'clock,  startled  to  find  herself  in  a 
strange  room,  and  feeling  a  reaction  from  her 
reckless  exhilaration  of  the  preceding  day.  She 
had  rung  the  bell,  had  inquired  if  Mr.  Garthe 
were  in  the  house,  and  had  been  told  by  Amelia 
that  he  had  come  back  about  seven  o'clock,  had 
roused  Larry,  had  had  him  dressed  and  his  clothes 
packed,  and  had  taken  him  away  in  a  carriage. 

With  her  spirits  already  in  a  state  of  unstable 
equilibrium,  this  news  had  depressed  Bella.  It 
seemed  a  dull  world,  an  irremediably  spoiled  world 
for  her.  Since  she  had  found  out  that  Lawrence 
Garthe  was  within  reach  she  had  floated  upon 


C88      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

a  rising  flood  of  conjecture,  curiosity,  almost,  it 
might  be  said,  hope,  towards  some  possible  event 
which  loomed  full  at  once  of  promise  and  of  threat. 
Now,  no  longer  upborne  by  any  clear  resolution, 
she  found  herself  stranded  at  dead  low  tide,  the 
shallows  laying  bare  everything  she  had  believed 
in  yesterday.  She  was  at  first  in  such  absolute 
disgust  with  herself  she  hated  the  thought  of  what 
she  had  done,  compelled  to  identify  her  action  as 
a  failure  and  a  mistake.  However,  as  she  dressed, 
ate  her  breakfast,  and  talked  with  Button  and 
Amelia,  eliciting  little  in  return  save  an  added 
sense  of  rebuff,  she  shook  off  the  helpless  sense 
of  being  baffled  and  thwarted.  In  her  capriciously 
poised  mood  she  could  not  have  told  whether  she 
was  in  earnest  when,  after  calling  for  a  carriage, 
she  took  leave,  with  the  message  for  Garthe  that 
she  would  soon  return ;  whether  she  realized  that 
her  play  was  made,  whether  she  surrendered  the 
game,  or  looked  forward  to  another  cast  of  the  die. 
She  sat  down  over  the  fire  in  her  room  at  the 
Percy  with  her  hands  hanging  loosely  in  her  lap, 
her  eyes  dull,  and  her  lips  sullen.  She  experi 
enced  no  sense  of  humiliation  in  the  thought  that 
she  had  intruded  upon  Garthe  ;  she  felt  herself  in 
no  way  culpable,  yet  was  conscious  of  a  soreness 
of  conscience  over  her  failure,  and  constantly  went 
over  the  scene  in  her  own  mind  from  a  personal 
point  of  view,  criticising  her  own  actions.  She 
recalled  the  exultation,  the  half  terror  she  had  ex- 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.        389 

perienced  in  seeing  first  his  figure,  in  silhouette, 
against  the  hall  light,  then,  in  the  fuller  illumi 
nation,  his  face  with  its  clear,  proud  look,  the  in 
domitable  glance  which  seemed  to  smite  as  it  fell 
upon  her. 

His  tone  had  been  cold  and  stern,  yet  there  had 
been  something  in  his  startled,  half  curious  survey 
of  her  face,  her  toilette,  which  put  her  at  her  ease ; 
which  showed  her  that  he  yielded  some  tribute  to 
her  beauty,  her  elegance ;  that  he  realized  she  had 
risen,  not  fallen,  in  the  scale ;  also  that,  although 
he  had  forgiven  nothing,  perhaps  could  never  for 
give,  he  still  did  not  hate  her  ;  that  it  was  not  in 
his  nature  to  hate  her.  Once  indeed  he  had  loved 
her,  —  loved  her  as  nobody  else  had  ever  loved 
her;  as  she  said  this  to  herself  she  burst  into  a 
fit  of  rage  against  herself,  or  him,  or  the  world, 
turned  and  struck  the  cushions  of  the  chair  where 
she  sat,  started  up,  paced  the  room  with  her  hands 
pressing  her  temples,  threw  herself  on  the  bed, 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillows,  and  bit  them  again 
and  again  as  if  in  a  blind  fury. 

Yet  presently  the  paroxysm  passed,  and  she  sat 
up,  her  face  flushed,  her  hair  thrown  carelessly 
back. 

"  But  I  am  glad  he  was  cold  as  ice,"  she  said 
with  a  shiver.  Had  she  been  in  earnest  in  trying 
to  rekindle  a  spark  of  the  old  passion,  in  testing 
the  efficacy  of  that  air  of  cool  reserve  which  she 
believed  to  be  a  mere  pretense  ? 


390      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  I  do  not  understand  myself,"  she  murmured. 
"  Put  me  in  a  new  place  and  I  am  a  mystery ;  I 
am  afraid  of  myself  in  the  dark."  Again  she 
said  audibly :  "  I  am  glad  that  he  was  cold  as  ice." 

It  is  hard  to  tell  when  one  is  in  earnest  and 
when  one  is  not  in  earnest ;  but  to  see  him,  to  see 
Larry,  to  see  the  house,  to  perceive  clearly  that 
in  spite  of  what  she  had  cost  him  lie  had  found 
dignity,  peace,  happiness ;  to  recognize  in  the  least 
of  his  surroundings  his  old  dominant  traits,  —  neat 
ness,  order,  method,  his  requirement  of  everything 
and  everybody  about  him  that  they  should  subor 
dinate  themselves  to  a  rational  standard  and  to  a 
cohesive  law,  to  his  ideas,  which,  were  to  him  the 
right  ideas,  —  had  brought,  along  with  the  old  imp- 
like  feeling  of  rebellion  and  antagonism,  the  old  at 
traction  ;  and  the  sentimental,  passionate  current  in 
her  veins  had  ruined  everything.  Instead  of  being 
wholly  mistress  of  the  occasion,  instead  of  main 
taining  an  attitude  impressionable,  seducing,  mob 
ile,  but  yet  firm,  she  had  been  precipitate,  —  had 
strained  every  nerve,  made  an  intense  effort  some 
how  to  reach  him ;  if  she  could  reach  him,  she  had 
said  to  herself,  she  could  move  him.  But  he  had 
escaped  her ;  at  the  turning-point  she  had  missed. 
But  after  all,  here  she  was,  rich,  independent, 
unhampered. 

"Would  I  go  back?"  she  asked  herself;  "would 
I  have  had  my  life  different?  Suppose  six  yean 
ago  I  had  stayed  with  Lawrence  instead  of  going 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       391 

off  as  I  did.  Virtue  is  its  own  reward,  they  say. 
Would  virtue  have  been  a  reward  to  me  ?  We 
had  different  ideas,  we  had  different  ways,  our 
natures  were  different.  Still,  suppose  I  had  fore 
seen  that  he  would  eventually  be  rather  a  success 
ful  man,  —  suppose  I  had  not  taken  the  fancy 
that  Algernon  would  supply  all  the  variety  and 
excitement  I  had  missed,  —  suppose  I  had  realized 
what  a  horrible  experience  he  would  give  me,  how 
I  should  learn  to  loathe  him  !  Yes,  suppose  I  had 
gone  on  being  Mrs.  Lawrence  Garthe,  and  were 
living  here  now  with  him  and  with  Larry,  dressing 
for  dinner,  sitting  with  the  boy  and  waiting  for 
his  father  to  come  in,  running  towards  him,  open 
ing  my  arms,  receiving  his  kisses,  his  loving  flat 
teries,  being  told  the  news, — should  I  be  happy?'* 

Again  she  sprang  up,  and  as  if  chafed  by  the 
solitude  and  the  silence,  struck  everything  that 
came  in  her  way,  —  crashed  a  bottle  on  the  dress 
ing  table,  —  tore  open  the  curtains,  pushed  up  the 
shades. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  a  servant  asked 
if  she  would  have  luncheon. 

"Yes,  and  I  will  have  a  pint  bottle  of  cham 
pagne,"  she  added  hastily. 

Champagne  invariably  put  her  in  good  spirits, 
and  presently  she  experienced  an  agreeable  exhila 
ration  which  brought  with  it  a  different  mood,  of 
self-satisfaction,  of  belief  in  her  ability  to  make 
her  life  just  what  she  wished  it  to  be.  She  en- 


392      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

joyed  the  stimulus  of  the  champagne,  the  cro 
quettes  and  pate's,  not  only  for  themselves,  but  as 
a  sign  of  the  comfort  her  wealth  could  yield.  It 
justified  all  the  zigzags  of  her  career  that  she 
could  now,  as  a  climax,  to-day  ring  the  bell  and  on 
the  instant  command  all  the  resources  of  a  great 
establishment.  How  absurd  for  her  to  feel  com 
punctions,  scruples,  almost  a  romantic  aspiration 
towards  something  different!  What  more  could 
she  ask  than  she  possessed  ?  And  to  repent  anything 
she  had  done  would  be  to  give  up  these  tangible 
advantages.  A  woman,  if  she  wishes  to  remain 
young  and  beautiful,  should  never  vex  herself  nor 
permit  herself  to  be  vexed.  If  somebody  has  to 
suffer,  let  it  be  somebody  else.  She  had  given 
Lawrence  Garthe  some  galling  moments ;  now  let 
her  try  to  strike  him  once  more  through  that 
woman. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  about  his  being  in  love 
with  her.  I  only  thought  whether  he  was  still  in 
love  with  me." 

She  revolved  a  dozen  plans  in  her  head.  Should 
she  write  an  anonymous  letter,  put  a  paragraph  in 
the  papers?  She  was  in  doubt  about  the  precise 
form  her  vengeance  should  take  until,  rising  from 
table,  she  glanced  into  the  mirror  and  found  her 
self  in  such  admirable  good  looks  she  determined 
to  deal  her  own  blow  and  watch  it  strike  home. 
She  herself  would  go  and  see  the  rival  who  had 
supplanted  her  in  Garthe's  affections. 


FERDINAND  HARTLEYS  AMBITION.       393 

She  freshened  her  toilette  by  a  few  effective 
touches,  and  stepped  into  her  coupe  at  half  past 
two  o'clock  with  the  feeling  of  going,  seeing,  and 
conquering.  The  day  was  mild.  The  snow,  fallen 
in  the  night,  was  still  dripping  from  the  roofs  ;  the 
streets,  only  half  cleared,  were  deep  in  mud  and 
slush,  but  overhead  was  a  sky  of  spring,  exquisitely 
blue  with  dots  of  fleecy  clouds  and  a  sun  which 
warmed  and  inspired.  Everywhere  were  exposed 
pots  of  plants  in  full  blossom,  and  at  each  corner 
came  a  whiff  from  the  bunches  of  violets  offered 
by  the  flower-venders.  In  spite  of  the  almost  im 
passable  streets,  Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue  were 
filled  with  carriages,  and  a  constant  stream  of 
women  poured  in  and  out  of  the  principal  shops. 

"  Not  one  of  them  has  half  as  much  money  to 
spend  as  I  have,"  Bella  thought  within  herself, 
at  the  same  time  that  she  was  uneasily  conscious 
that  the  tall  houses,  the  great  bazaars,  the  mov 
ing  throngs  of  people,  the  general  air  of  gayety 
and  good-humor,  represented  a  life  to  which  she 
did  not  belong,  from  which  a  gulf  seemed  to 
separate  her.  She  was  the  only  woman,  it  seemed, 
whose  friends  were  not  looking  for  her  ;  the  only 
one  who  was  not  met  with  deference,  with  eager 
attentions,  who  did  not  wear  a  complacent  air  of 
being  approved,  flattered,  caressed  by  hosts  of 
admiring  acquaintances. 

"  Drive  on  faster,  —  take  a  side  street,"  she 
said  to  the  man  on  the  box.  Her  voice  rang  out 


394      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

sharply,  her  complexion  had  heightened  in  color, 
she  experienced  the  vague  rage  which  at  times 
possessed  her  against  a  world  which  seemed  to  bar 
her  out  in  spite  of  her  golden  key  which  ought  to 
unlock  everything. 

Five  minutes  later  she  left  her  carriage  and  was 
ascending  the  steps  of  the  house  on  Lexington 
Avenue,  when  the  door  opened,  disclosing  John 
Marchmont  taking  leave  of  Mrs.  Garner.  It  could 
be  of  no  use  for  the  latter  to  retreat,  to  pretend  not 
to  see  the  advancing  visitor,  for  in  another  instant 
Bella,  pressing  her  advantage,  was  over  the  thresh 
old. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  at  home,  Mrs.  Gar 
ner,"  she  said  in  her  abrupt,  imperious  way.  "  I 
wish  particularly  to  see  you." 

"  Oh,"  said  Kathleen,  helpless  in  the  emergency, 
and  feeling  herself  caught  in  a  trap,  "I  was  just 
—  I  really  must  — 

44  Do  you  remember  me?"  demanded  Bella,  who 
easily  enough  discerned  in  the  other's  manner 
shrinking  timidity,  mixed  with  some  curiosity. 

"Oh,  yes.  It  is  Miss  Shepard's  friend.  It  is 
Mrs.  Hernandez,"  said  Kathleen,  beginning  to 
re-gather  her  forces.  "  Pray  come  in." 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Kathleen,  looking  regretfully  after 
John  Marchmont,  who  was  lifting  his  hat  in  a  last 
adieu  from  the  pavement.  He  was  to  be  back 
again  in  an  hour,  but  already  she  experienced  a 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       395 

fresh  need  of  him,  of  the  perfect  confidence  and 
mutual  understanding  which  gave  her  such  a 
happy  freedom.  Then  besides,  she  realized  that 
she  was  flushed,  disheveled,  and  she  longed  to  run 
away ;  she  wished  she  had  not  come  to  the  door  in 
that  foolish,  childish  fashion,  or  that,  having  com 
mitted  herself,  she  had  insisted  that  John  should 
turn  back.  She  desired  ardently  that  Constance 
should  come,  yet  in  spite  of  all  those  contradictions 
of  feeling,  with  an  air  of  prodigious  politeness,  she 
ushered  her  visitor  into  the  drawing-room,  main 
taining  a  charm  of  manner,  a  felicity  of  phrase, 
which  left  Bella  tongue-tied,  ill  at  ease,  oppressed 
by  a  consciousness  of  her  rival's  prettiness  and 
elegance,  and  devoured  by  envy.  But  it  was  this 
graceful  peace  of  mind  she  had  come  to  spoil. 

"How  is  Miss  Shepard?"  said  Kathleen,  as 
they  sat  down  face  to  face.  "  How  clever  she  is ! 
How  much  she  made  us  feel  the  other  day !  I  was 
so  much  impressed  !  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  returned  Bella.  "  She  is  very  im 
pressive  at  times." 

"  What  a  privilege-to  live  near  such  a  woman," 
pursued  Kathleen,  harping  on  the  only  subject 
which  presented  itself  to  her  mind,  since  the  other 
had  suggested  no  reason  for  the  visit.  "  You  and 
she  are  great  friends,  I  suppose." 

"  She  is  my  companion,"  said  Bella  loftily.  "  I 
pay  her  a  high  salary  to  live  with  me." 

"Ye-es?     I   should  suppose  she  would  need  to 


396      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

have  a  small  fortune  paid  her  for  such  a  service," 
observed  Kathleen  with  an  air  of  enthusiasm  ;  then, 
becoming  conscious  of  the  possibly  dubious  mean 
ing  of  her  words,  she  blushed  scarlet  and  added 
with  an  air  of  deprecation,  u  You  must  be  very 
grateful  to  her." 

"  She  sometimes  seems  very  grateful  to  me," 
returned  Bella  with  a  shrill  little  laugh.  "I  must 
have  some  one.  I  am  lonely." 

"  Oh  yes,  one  does  get  lonely,"  said  Kathleen. 
"  I  have  a  daughter." 

"  A  daughter  ?  Do  you  mean  your  stepdaugh 
ter?  I  should  suppose  she  was  as  old  as  you." 

"  Not  quite."  Kathleen  began  by  this  time  to 
make  up  her  mind  that  she  had  carried  out  her 
own  role  to  its  limit.  She  had  admitted  her 
visitor,  seated  her,  exhausted  the  only  topic  they 
had  in  common,  and  now,  putting  on  her  finest  air, 
she  sat  back  in  her  chair  and  awaited  events. 

There  ensued  a  pause. 

"I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Garner,"  Bella  remarked 
presently,  "  that  you  consider  it  very  odd  for  me 
to  introduce  myself  like  this  when  you  have  never 
been  to  see  me." 

"Odd?  Oh  dear,  no,  not  in  the  least,"  replied 
Kathleen  suavely. 

"  I  felt,  you  see,  Mrs.  Garner,  that  I  had  a 
right  to  come." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  Kathleen  murmured  witli  an 
air  of  mild  surprise. 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       397 

"  I  might  say  I  felt  it  was  my  duty  to  come." 

"  Your  duty  ?  I  am  sure  it  is  extremely  good 
of  you  to  say  so." 

"  I  hear,"  Bella  continued  with  a  tone  and  look 
which  suggested  a  challenge  to  personal  encounter, 
"  that  you  are  thinking  of  marrying  again." 

"Who  told  you?"  ejaculated  Kathleen,  stupe 
fied.  She  had  been  engaged  to  Mr.  Marchmont 
not  quite  three  hours ;  he  had  not  left  her  until  he 
encountered  this  woman  on  the  steps  ;  not  even  to 
Constance  had  the  news  been  confided. 

"  I  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Hernandez.  "  It  may  be 
that  I  am  better  acquainted  with  the  man  you  are 
in  love  with  than  you  are." 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,"  said  Kathleen,  wide-eyed  with  sur 
prise.  "  That  does  not  seem  possible." 

"It  is  possible.  It  is  true.  I  wish  you  to 
answer  me  one  question,  Mrs.  Garner.  I  have  a 
right  to  ask  it.  Has  he  ever  told  you  about  his 
first  marriage  ?  " 

"  His  first  marriage  ?  "  Kathleen  repeated,  in 
credulous.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  world  was 
turning  round. 

"  Surely  you  must  know  that  he  has  been 
married !  He  has  a  little  boy  seven  years  old." 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,"  said  Kathleen  again,  her  brain 
reeling  before  these  far-reaching  suggestions.  The 
woman's  manner  carried  instant  conviction,  yet 
it  did  seem  to  her  so  very  improbable  that  John 
Marchmont  could  have  concealed  such  a  passage 


398      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

in  his  career.  "  A  little  boy  seven  years  old !  "  she 
faltered,  helpless.  "  I  should  have  said  I  knew  the 
least  fact  in  his  history." 

"  Lawrence  Garthe  was  married  at  Whitehouae, 
Colorado,  nine  years  ago  last  August,"  said  Mrs. 
Hernandez,  as  if  flinging  down  the  gauntlet.  u  Do 
you  pretend  to  tell  me  that  you  had  no  idea  of  it  ?  " 

Kathleen's  brain  had  cleared  in  a  flash.  Her 
spirits,  too,  rebounded.  She  was  ready  to  meet 
the  crisis. 

"  I  did  not  know  the  exact  date,"  she  said,  with 
an  air  of  interest.  "  Pray  tell  me  anything  you 
have  to  say  about  it.  We  have  plenty  of  time. 
You  said  you  came  to  tell  me  something.  Don't 
let  us  be  incoherent.  It  is  so  much  better  to  say 
everything  clearly,  and  then  one  understands.  Yes, 
I  knew  that  Mr.  Garthe  had  been  married,  that 
he  had  a  dear  little  boy." 

"  I  wonder,"  cried  Mrs.  Hernandez  impatiently, 
"  what  else  he  has  told  you." 

"  He  has  told  me  all  sorts  of  interesting  things. 
He  is  one  of  the  most  entertaining  men  I  know." 

"  Ah,  —  entertaining  !  Has  he  talked  to  you 
about  his  wife  ?  Has  he  confided  the  fact  to  you 
that  his  wife  is  still  alive  ?  " 

"  His  wife  alive  ?  "  repeated  Kathleen  in  clear 
dismay.  "  Are  n't  you  mistaken  ?  How  can  she 
be  alive  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  A  woman  does  not  die  simply 
because  —  " 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       399 

"  But  it  is  surely  so  uncomfortable,"  Kathleen 
murmured,  her  mind  reverting  to  certain  dan 
gers  now  well  passed,  but  which  yet  made  this 
news  confounding  in  the  extreme. 

"  Of  course  they  were  divorced,"  explained  Mrs. 
Hernandez. 

An  exclamation  escaped  Kathleen.  She  wrung 
her  hands. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  visitor. 

"  It  just  flashed  across  my  mind  that  I  have 
talked  about  divorces  to  Mr.  Garthe,"  said  Kath 
leen  piteously.  "What  must  he  have  thought  of 
me?" 

Bella,  all  the  time  conscious  of  being  foiled,  of 
not  actually  reaching  her  victim,  made  a  quick 
thrust. 

"  His  wife  obtained  a  divorce  from  him  because 
he  had  run  away  from  her." 

"  What  a  dreadful  woman  she  must  have  been," 
said  Kathleen. 

"  How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing?"  cried  Bella 
defiantly. 

"But  I  know  Mr.  Garthe,"  said  Kathleen, 
equally  roused,  "  and  I  know  that  he  never  would 
have  run  away  unless  she  had  been  a  dreadful 
woman !  From  the  first  moment  I  saw  him  I  felt 
as  if  he  had  had  some  painful  experience,  but  I 
did  not  suspect  that  it  had  been  a  bad  wife." 

"  How  dare  you  insult  me  ?  "  said  Bella,  flushing 
with  rage. 


400      TIIE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTIIE. 

"  Was  she  your  sister  ?  "  asked  Kathleen  ;  then 
with  swift  divination,  "  Was  it  yourself  ?  " 

"  It  was  I." 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other. 

"  I  thought  you  were  Mrs.  Hernandez,  —  a 
widow,"  said  Kathleen,  puzzled. 

"  I  am  the  widow  of  Aurelio  Hernandez." 

"  Then  how  can  you  tell  me  you  were  ever  Mrs. 
Lawrence  Garthe  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  said  I  obtained  a  divorce  from 
him." 

"  Oh,  I  wish,"  murmured  Kathleen  with  fresh 
remorse,  "that  I  had  never  brought  up  that 
uncomfortable  subject  before  him."  The  image 
of  Garthe's  grave,  clearly-outlined  face,  his  whole 
look  and  manner  that  of  a  man  tried  and  seasoned, 
came  up  to  her  mind  in  contrast  with  this  hand 
some,  richly-dressed,  successful  woman. 

"  I  know  Mr.  Garthe  very  well,"  she  said  with 
enthusiasm.  "  I  admire  him  very  much." 

"  You  don't  know  my  side,"  retorted  Bella. 

"  No,  I  do  not  know  your  side,"  observed  Kath 
leen  gently.  "  Appearances  are  very  much  against 
you,  —  still  I  have  lived  a  long  time,  and  know 
that  appearances  are  often  deceitful." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  appearances  are  against  me." 

"  It  would  be  so  dreadful,  to  make  one's  hus 
band  run  away  from  one." 

"  The  fault  was  his.  He  was  a  tyrannical  hus 
band,  and  I  rebelled." 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       401 

"  Tyrannical  ?  "  said  Kathleen.  She  remem 
bered  that  Garthe  had  sometimes  impressed  her  as 
a  little  masterful.  "  I  rather  like  to  be  tyrannized 
over,  myself,"  she  added,  "  but  it  makes  marriage 
a  trifle  hazardous." 

"  I  assure  you,  Lawrence  Garthe  is  tyrannical." 

"  I  know  how  despotic  men  can  be.  I  heard  of  a 
man  once  who  would  only  allow  his  wife  to  send 
one  pair  of  stockings  a  week  to  the  laundry." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  said  Bella  impatiently. 

"  But  it  implies  a  great  deal,"  insisted  Kathleen, 
apparently  putting  all  her  heart  into  the  subject. 
"A  man  who  tyrannizes  about  stockings  would  not 
stop  there.  He  might  do  anything.  And  I  am 
not  so  tame  as  I  seem.  If  a  man  were  to  deny 
me  plenty  of  fresh  stockings  I  am  sure  it  would 
bring  out  all  the  naughtiness  in  me.  I  am  sure 
I  sympathize  with  you  very  much.  Still  I  should 
wish  to  hear  Mr.  Garthe's  side  of  the  story." 

"  We  had  different  ideas,  we  had  "  — 

"  And  you  were  not  contented,"  said  Kathleen, 
who  had  heard  some  one  come  in,  and,  fancying 
that  John  Marchmont  might  have  returned,  began 
to  be  in  urgent  haste  ;  and  accordingly,  bent  on 
dismissing  her  visitor,  was  prepared  to  understand 
her  before  she  spoke  and  to  give  her  ideas  clear 
expression  before  she  uttered  them.  "  You  wanted 
your  own  way,  good  or  bad,  and  you  gained  your 
own  way,  good  or  bad.  It  is  very  easy  to  see  that 
Mr.  Garthe  did  not  get  his." 


402      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  I  am  not  a  woman  to  be  hampered  by  every 
day  laws,''  said  Bella,  conscious  all  the  time  of 
missing  her  point,  of  finding  her  definite  idea 
blurred  and  marred.  "  I  felt  that  I  could  not 
have  my  life  spoiled." 

"  I  congratidate  you  on  having  succeeded,"  said 
Kathleen. 

"  Succeeded  in  what  ?  " 

"In  spoiling  other  people's  lives  and  carrying 
out  your  own  ideas." 

"  If  I  have  not  carried  out  my  own  ideas  "  — 

"  I  know  how  it  is,"  interrupted  Kathy ;  "  a 
woman  feels  she  must  do  something,  so  she  com 
mits  stupidities  and  perhaps  regrets  it ;  but  I  dare 
say  that  it  seems  worth  while  to  have  one's  fling ; 
only  "  - 

"Only  what?"  said  Bella,  carried  away  in  spite 
of  herself,  and  almost  forgetting  what  she  had  come 
to  say. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  —  about  —  that  — 
Mr.  Hernandez,"  said  Kathleen,  as  if  tired  of  try 
ing  to  seek  a  solution  to  the  enigma. 

"  I  married  again,"  said  Bella  proudly.  "  I  had 
a  right." 

"  Then  I  suppose  Mr.  Garthe  has  a  right  to 
marry  again,"  said  Kathleen,  as  if  at  last  arriving 
at  some  clear  conclusion. 

She  sat  still,  looking  at  her  visitor,  who  seemed 
to  be  gathering  her  forces  as  if  to  carry  out  some 
great  resolution.  The  pupils  of  her  eyes  were  con- 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       403 

tracted  ;  a  crimson  spot  burned  on  each  cheek,  — 
her   lips   had   sharpened.      She  looked  as  if  she 
could  spring. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  he  has  no  wish 
to  marry  again  unless  —  unless  I  will  go  back  to 
him." 

"  You  —  go  —  back  ?  "  repeated  Kathleen  blankly. 

"  I  have  gone  back,"  said  Bella.  "  I  went  there 
yesterday.  I  stayed  there  last  night." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Kathleen  recklessly. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  my  child,  —  of  course  there  is 
always  that  bond  between  us." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Kathleen  again. 

"Lawrence  came  home,  we  dined  together  and 
afterwards  "  — 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  And  the  reason  I  have  come  to  you  to-day  is 
to  tell  you  that  he  is  my  husband,  that  his  child  is 
my  child,  that "  — 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  And  to  ask  you  to  give  up  any  sort  of  engage 
ment  you  have  entered  into  with  him." 

"I  shall  not  give  up  any  engagement,"  cried 
Kathleen,  at  the  end  of  her  patience,  and  with  an 
electrical  glow  and  fire  and  daring  about  her  whole 
face  and  manner.  "  A  woman  who  was  engaged 
to  him  would  be  wicked,  I  consider,  if  she  gave 
him  up  to  you.  He  ought  to  be  saved  from  you. 
He  ought  to  be  run  away  with.  I  cannot  conceive 
how  you  could  have  ventured  to  come  here  with 


404      THE  STORY  OF  LA  WHENCE  GARTHE. 

this  story,  Mrs.  Hernandez.  I  see  the  outrage  it 
implies.  But  I  tlo  not  believe  in  you,  I  do  not 
believe  in  a  word  you  have  uttered,  and  I  wish  you 
a  very  good  afternoon." 

Five  minutes  later  Mrs.  Hernandez  found  her 
self  in  her  carriage  on  her  way  back  to  the  Percy. 
She  hardly  comprehended  how  her  exit  from  the 
house  had  been  effected.  She  knew  that  Mrs. 
Garner  had  suddenly  risen  to  her  feet,  looking 
very  tall,  very  pretty,  her  blue  eyes  blazing,  her 
lips  curling ;  she  had  rung  the  bell  for  a  servant, 
made  a  gesture  towards  the  door,  and  custom,  pro 
priety,  civilized  routine,  had  done  the  rest.  They 
were  stronger  than  any  savage  instinct.  Bella  could 
not  assert  herself  against  them.  She  felt  herself 
rebuffed  ;  experienced  a  sense  of  inadequacy.  No 
thing  in  the  experience  had  pleased  her  ;  of  all  the 
exploits  of  Bella  Brown  this  had  satisfied  her  least. 
Mrs.  Garner,  in  spite  of  her  careless  dress  and  dis 
ordered  hair,  had  represented  to  her  an  ideal  of 
elegance  and  charm  beyond  her  experience.  She 
could  forgive  her  nothing.  She  only  hoped  that 
she  had  planted  an  arrow  which  would  rankle  in 
her  heart. 

Returning  to  the  Percy,  she  was  received  by  Miss 
Shepard,  who  had  come  back,  and,  sitting  before  a 
desk,  was  looking  at  her  notes  for  a  lecture  to  be 
delivered  at  four  o'clock.  She  greeted  Bella  with 
unusual  cordiality,  but  her  peace  of  mind  was  of 
short  duration,  for  Bella  on  the  instant  poured  out 


FERDINAND  HARTLEY'S  AMBITION.       405 

the  whole  story  of  her  experiences  during  the  past 
twenty-four  hours,  flinching  at  nothing. 

"  This  separates  us  forever,"  said  Miss  Shepard 
coldly.  She  tied  up  the  loose  sheets  of  her  manu 
script,  and  rose  with  an  absent  air. 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  should  be  angry 
with  me,"  said  Bella. 

"  No,  you  do  not  understand,"  said  Eugenia. 

After  trying  in  vain  to  melt  this  icy  demeanor, 
Bella  grew  bored,  and  permitted  Miss  Shepard  to 
depart  without  any  concession.  It  was  clear  to 
her  that  her  enterprise  had  struck  Eugenia  rather 
as  a  success  than  as  a  disheartening  failure,  and 
Bella's  spirits  began  to  rise  again.  Of  course  the 
role  she  had  played  hardly  came  up  to  Eugenia's 
requirements  of  her ;  the  mission  she  had  imposed 
upon  herself  had  not  been  exactly  a  delicate  one, 
but  she  had  been  obliged  to  act  for  herself;  indeed, 
when  in  her  career  had  she  not  been  obliged  to 
do  and  dare,  leaving  weak,  timid  souls  to  look  and 
long  and  tremble  on  the  brink!  She  repented 
nothing,  yet  the  experience  had  sickened  her  of 
New  York,  had  made  her  feel  that  she  was  an 
tagonistic  to  New  York.  The  idea  that  she  had 
encountered  nothing  save  mortification  and  failure 
here  had  presented  itself  before,  but  it  had  been 
unwelcome,  and  she  had  accepted  it  only  condition 
ally,  reserving  to  herself  the  right  of  testing  all 
sorts  of  experience,  —  of  touching  and  handling ; 
now  she  had  made  the  experiment,  and  she  sur- 


406      TUE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

rendered.  She  was  tired  of  New  York,  —  or  was  it 
that  she  was  tired  of  herself,  of  her  bad  manage 
ment,  her  continual  false  moves?  The  sense  of 
isolation,  of  the  emptiness,  the  uselessness,  of  her 
own  efforts,  grew ;  she  experienced  a  sense  of  irk- 
someness,  of  trying  to  breathe  in  a  void.  All  at 
once  came  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  a  man  brought  a 
card  on  a  salver. 

Bella  cast  a  glance  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  and 
in  an  instant  all  her  regrets,  vexations,  and  humil 
iations  vanished.  "  Ask  Mr.  Hartley  to  come  up,'* 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

RENUNCIATION. 

LEFT  alone,  Kathleen  Garner,  after  hearing  the 
street  door  close  upon  her  visitor,  drew  a  long 
breath  of  relief,  turned,  and  to  her  surprise  saw 
that  Constance  was  standing  between  the  half 
open  curtains  which  divided  the  alcove  from  the 
main  drawing-room. 

"  Have  you  been  there  all  the  time  ?  "  gasped 
Kathy. 

"No,  not  all  the  time,"  answered  Constance, 
who  was  very  pale. 

"  I  remember  now  I  heard  some  one  come  in. 
Did  you  know  who  that  was  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Hernandez." 

"  Is  n't  she  a  terror !  Did  you  hear  what  she 
said?" 

«  Yes." 

"  She  seems  to  me  like  —  like  a  Mary  Magda 
len  who  has  n't  repented,"  said  Kathleen.  "  Did 
you  believe  what  she  said  ?  " 

"  Could  one  disbelieve  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  Constance,"  cried  Kathy,  seeing  in  the 
girl's  whole  look  and  feeling,  in  her  tone  and 
words,  a  conflict  of  feeling,  "  I  know  what  you  are 


408      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

thinking  of."  She  put  her  arms  about  her  neck 
and  clasped  her  close.  "  You  are  thinking,  suppose 
I  had  married  Mr.  Gartlie  when  you  wanted  me 
to  do  it,  how  embarrassing  this  would  have  been ! 
You  are  cleverer  than  I  am,  Constance,  but  some 
times  you  are  wrong." 

"  I  am  always  wrong,"  murmured  Constance. 

"  I  never  did  like  divorces,"  said  Kathleen, 
"  but  the  practical  discomfort  of  them  never  struck 
me  before.  She  had  heard  I  was  going  to  be  mar 
ried.  It  startled  me  so,  it  seemed  like  clairvoy 
ance  ;  for  Constance,  I  am  going  to  be  married." 

Constance  did  not  seem  at  first  to  hear;  her 
ardent  young  face  had  taken  on  a  new,  indefinable 
look  of  trouble. 

"  Not  to  Mr.  Garthe,"  Kathy  pursued,  bringing 
a  hand  down  firmly  on  each  of  the  other's  shoul 
ders  as  a  clear  intimation  that  any  anxiety  about 
a  possible  complication  in  that  direction  was  quite 
too  absurd;  "  to  somebody  else  altogether." 

Constance,  with  visible  effort,  brought  back  her 
thoughts  to  answer  the  present  demand  upon  her 
sympathies.  She  looked  at  the  bright,  triumphant 
face  close  to  hers. 

"  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Marchmont  ? "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  Oh,  Kathy,  how  glad  I  am  ! "  She 
found  her  heart  swelling,  she  could  not  help  utter 
ing  a  sort  of  sob. 

"  You  are  not  crying,  Constance,"  said  Kathy, 
as  they  clasped  each  other  anew,  a  deep,  insistent, 


RENUNCIATION.  409 

but  widely  different  thought  giving  a  sort  of  pas 
sion  to  them  both. 

"  Oh,  not  crying,  Kathy,  but  I  am  so  glad,  it  is 
such  a  relief.  I  wanted  so  to  have  you  happy, 
dear.  I  was  stupid,  clumsy,  went  to  work  in  the 
wrong  way,  but  I  did  want  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul  to  have  you  happy,  and  lately,  I  had  begun  to 
think—" 

She  stopped  short,  remembering  how  she  had 
come  to  the  belief  that  it  was  Kathleen's  fate  to 
marry  John  Marchmont. 

"  There  was  never  but  one  way,  —  there  was 
never  but  one  person,"  cried  Kathy.  "  I  never 
cared  for  anybody  else,  I  never  thought  of  any 
body  else, — there  never  could  have  been  anybody 
else.  When  I  woke  up  in  the  morning  I  always 
said  to  myself  I  hoped  Mr.  Marchmont  would 
come  to-day.  I  did  not  quite  understand  why. 
But  I  was  always  jealous  if  he  looked  at  anybody 
else,  if  he  spoke  to  anybody  else.  I  felt  as  if  he 
belonged  to  me  ;  I  did,  really.  I  could  n't  have  let 
him  marry  anybody  else,  could  I,  Constance,  — 
Blanche  Challoner,  for  example  ?  " 

"I  do  not  imagine  he  ever  wished  to  marry 
Blanche  Challoner,"  said  Constance. 

"  No,"  murmured  Kathy,  almost  ready  to  make 
a  full  confession,  although  it  had  been  such  a  com 
fort  that  John  Marchmont  had  promised  that  the 
story  of  how  their  engagement  came  about  should 
remain  their  own  consecrated  secret.  "  He  is  in 


410      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

love  with  me ;  I  do  feel  that  he  is  in  love  with  me. 
Of  course,  not  as  much  as  I  -  "  She  broke  off. 
"I  must  dress  at  once,"  she  exclaimed  hurriedly. 
"  He  only  went  away  for  an  hour.  He  will  be 
back,  and  I  must  l>e  ready  for  him." 

The  two  went  up  the  stairs  together  hand  in 
hand,  and  Constance,  following  Kathleen  into  her 
own  room,  embraced  her  once  more  ;  then  leaving 
her  with  the  new  happiness  which  surrounded  her 
like  a  halo,  the  girl  went  into  the  little  blue-and- 
white  morning-room  and  sat  down. 

"  Thank  heaven  I  have  it  to  bear,  not  Kathy," 
she  said  to  herself  with  a  sensation  of  relief.  It 
was  her  own  trouble  ;  Kathy  was  safe. 

She  had  known  there  was  something  which 
Garthe  had  shrunk  from  telling  her,  but  her 
imagination,  when  it  had  exercised  itself  upon  his 
past,  had  worked  only  along  the  channels  of  what 
roused  her  pity  and  sympathy.  She  had  no  ex 
perience  which  made  her  suspect  wrong,  and  even 
when  he  had  made  allusion  to  his  own  faults  she 
had  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  vindicate  him  as  if 
against  himself.  This  clear  illumination  put  every 
thing  into  a  new  aspect,  and  ran  like  a  fire  over 
his  every  hint  and  suggestion,  making  them  lurid, 
giving  a  terrific  meaning  to  his  confession  that 
there  had  been  something  in  his  life  which  had 
separated  him  from  any  thoughts  of  happiness. 

She  had  returned  hastily,  intending  to  write  a 
note  at  the  desk  in  the  alcove,  and  then  go  out 


REN  UN  CIA  TION.  411 

again.  She  had  heard  voices  in  the  drawing-room, 
and,  supposing  it  to  be  some  ordinary  visitor,  had 
not  thought  of  being  curious  as  to  her  personality, 
or  of  any  necessity  for  either  listening  to  the  con 
versation  or  avoiding  it.  To  her  surprise  she  had, 
the  moment  she  sat  down,  heard  Lawrence  Garthe's 
name  mentioned ;  then  there  came  this  disclosure. 
She  hated  the  secret,  she  hated  the  way  she  had 
heard  the  secret.  All  her  feelings,  instincts,  fac 
ulties  gathered  into  one  pulsation,  which  made 
her  say  to  herself  with  a  swift  outleap  of  indig 
nation,  offended  pride,  almost  of  disgust,  "  He 
ought  to  have  told  me.  He  ought  to  have  told 
me."  , 

Whatever  his  early  married  experience  had  been, 
however  painful,  however  possibly  shameful,  she 
had  supposed  it  ended  by  death,  —  that  sanctification 
of  mortal  conflict,  that  final  pause  to  the  most  rest 
less  insurrection  against  fate.  Yet  all  the  time  the 
woman  who  had  made  all  his  history  was  alive,  was 
young,  rich,  almost  beautiful,  triumphantly  moving 
on  in  a  career  which  no  doubt  satisfied  herself, 
answered  her  own  ambitions.  She  had  reasserted 
her  power  over  Garthe ;  she  had  been  his  wife,  she 
was  the  mother  of  his  child ;  she  had  claimed  her 
place  in  his  house,  and  he  had  yielded  it.  If  there 
were  some  brutality  implied  in  her  coming  here  to 
clear  up  any  doubt  or  uncertainty  concerning  the 
true  position  of  Lawrence  Garthe,  it  was  perhaps 
a  necessary,  an  inevitable  brutality,  inherent  in  the 


412      THE  STORY  OF  LA  WHENCE  GAB  THE. 

nature  of  the  circumstances,  and  not  the  woman's 
own  fault. 

For  under  the  shock  of  feeling  which  had  shat 
tered  her  own  dream-world,  the  announcement 
which  Kathleen  had  so  scornfully  rejected,  Con 
stance,  with  a  fuller  sense  of  its  significance,  had 
instantly  accepted,  —  accepted  while  tingling  under 
the  humiliation  of  the  blow  and  the  pain  of  the 
sting.  In  the  bewilderment  of  finding  herself  so  ter 
ribly  in  the  wrong,  it  seemed  burned  and  bitten  into 
her  consciousness  that  she  had  perhaps  seemed  an 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  easy  adjustment  of  con 
flicting  claims.  She  knew  by  the  woman's  tone 
and  look  that  she  was  cruel,  that  she  had  taken 
vindictive  pleasure  in  spoiling  and  trampling  down 
whatever  opposed  her,  yet  acquiesced  in  the  ruth 
less  spoliation,  finding  it  impossible  to  take  up  arms 
against  her.  She  forced  herself  to  dwell  upon  every 
detail  of  the  woman's  confession,  giving  each  hint 
its  fullest  meaning.  Of  course,  she  said  to  her 
self  with  intense  exaltation  of  feeling,  it  was  the 
only  way;  so  long  as  that  woman  had  existence 
she  must  have  a  place  in  those  two  lives ;  she  could 
not  be  barred  out.  No  woman  could  have  been 
Lawrence  Garthe's  wife  without  loving  him,  with 
out  accepting  him  as  an  ideal  beyond  any  other 
possible  ideal.  She  forced  herself  to  think,  with 
all  the  vivid  picturing  of  which  she  was  capable,  of 
what  their  lives  must  have  been  together,  — of  the 
memories  they  had  in  common,  —  of  their  mutual 


RENUNCIATION.  413 

relation  to  the  child.  For  Constance,  with  her  own 
impressions  of  Lawrence  Garthe,  —  of  his  expressive 
glance  which  seemed  to  fasten  upon  her  and  read 
her  thoughts,  his  voice  which  had  thrilled  and 
awakened  her,  reaching  deep-lying  fibres  of  feeling 
which  no  one  else  had  ever  moved,  —  applying  to 
these  different  circumstances  the  same  motive  and 
the  same  feeling,  saw  him,  in  imagination,  meet 
ing  Bella  as  he  had  met  herself,  and  saw  Bella  re 
sponding  with  the  fervor  of  fresh  and  unspoiled 
emotion. 

What  wonder  then  that  the  girl  shrank,  recoiled, 
longed  to  hide  herself?  That  her  mind,  moving 
confusedly  backward,  saw  her  most  trivial  action 
in  a  terrible  light?  That  she  remembered  how, 
with  all  her  thoughts  running  in  one  groove,  she 
had  speculated  on  the  chances  of  his  caring  for 
Kathy,  had  gone  out  of  her  way  to  reach  him,  to 
encourage  him,  to  draw  him  on?  He  had  never 
misled  her,  —  he  had  always  told  her  that  he  had 
long  felt  an  alien,  —  cut  off  from  the  happiness  of 
every-day  life.  Such  thoughts  came  swiftly  and  in 
sistently.  Her  active  fancy  wrought  on  her  vision 
of  Garthe  and  the  mother  of  his  little  boy,  until 
she  saw  him  now  as  a  man  who  has  escaped  ship 
wreck  and  stands  on  firm  ground  again,  full  of 
boundless  gratitude.  She  rejoiced,  she  said,  she 
must  rejoice,  but  she  experienced  a  chill  loneliness, 
a  throbbing  pain,  and  her  strength  fell  short  of  the 
task  she  allotted  to  it. 


414      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  G.LRTHE. 

It  was  still  early  on  the  following  day  when 
Lawrence  Garthe's  card  was  brought  to  Constance 
with  the  message  that  he  hoped  she  would  be  good 
enough  to  see  him  for  five  minutes.  John  March- 
mont  had  breakfasted  with  them,  then  had  taken 
Kathleen  out  for  a  walk,  and  Constance  was  alone 
in  the  morning-room,  her  strength  spent  by  the 
painful  mental  struggle  which  had  kept  her  awake 
all  night.  She  started  to  her  feet,  trembling  at  the 
news  that  Garthe  was  within  reach  of  her,  with 
an  impulse  almost  of  indignation.  She  had  been 
thinking  of  him  as  separated  from  her  forever,  and, 
as  a  stranger  who  had  appealed  to  her  sympathy, 
she  could  make  just  allowance  for  him,  could  reason 
dispassionately  about  this  unforeseen  crisis  of  his 
life  which  had  laid  fresh  obligations  on  him.  But 
to  stand  before  him,  to  meet  his  eyes,  to  hear  his 
voice,  was  to  impose  too  hard  a  necessity  upon  her 
strength.  She  trembled  at  the  thought  of  it,— 
she  was  afraid  of  the  coercion  she  was  always  under 
in  his  presence.  That  the  coercion  was  strong,  or 
that  the  first  feeling  of  terror  was  subsiding  and 
leaving  more  and  more  room  in  her  mind  for  active 
thought  of  what  this  crisis  might  mean  in  Lawrence 
Garthe's  own  life,  making  her  sympathetic  and 
helpful,  instead  of  inclined  to  stand  aloof,  was  evi 
dent,  when,  after  standing  for  a  few  moments 
pressing  her  palms  to  her  temples  in  indecision, 
she  turned  suddenly  and  walked  slowly  downstairs 
and  into  the  drawing-room. 


REN  UN  CIA  TION.  415 

Garthe,  holding  Larry  by  the  hand,  was  standing 
near  the  door.  Their  eyes  met  a  moment,  then 
without  other  greeting  he  said :  — 

"  This  is  my  boy ;  I  have  brought  him  to  see  you." 

He  led  the  little  fellow  up  to  Constance,  who 
took  the  child's  hand  in  hers,  stooped,  looked  into 
the  cherub  face,  and  then,  sitting  down,  lifted  him 
upon  her  lap.  If  tears  had  gathered,  if  a  sob 
choked  her,  it  was  because  the  fixed  sadness  in 
Garthe's  look  and  tone  had  seemed  to  cut  him  off 
from  hope. 

Larry  gazed  back  at  her  solemnly. 

"Papa,"  he  whispered  in  an  awed  voice,  "she 
is  crying." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  cry,  Larry,"  she  said,  kissing 
him.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  I  have  heard 
a  great  deal  about  you.  Your  papa  has  told 
me." 

Garthe,  standing  near  and  looking  down  at  them 
both,  laid  a  hand  on  each  of  the  child's  shoulders. 

"  This  is  the  dear  lady,  Larry,"  he  said,  "  of 
whom  I  spoke  to  you  last  Sunday.  She  had  prom 
ised  to  be  your  mamma  and  my  wife.  Since  then 
your  own  poor  mother,  who  is  alive,  who  left  you 
and  me  years  ago,  who  has  hitherto  been  content 
to  live  a  life  apart  from  us  both,  has  come  back 
into  your  life.  It  is  your  great  misfortune,  Larry, 
and  mine  as  well." 

He  was  watching  Constance's  face  as  he  spoke. 

"I  see,"  he  said,  "that  you  know." 


416      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  as  if  under  compulsion,  "  I 
know.'* 

"  You  understand  now  why  I  could  not  bring  my 
self  on  the  instant  to  tell  you." 

"  I  understand  it  all." 

"  You  feel  that  I  deceived  you  "  — 

She  made  a  little  gesture  as  if  to  silence  him, 
but  he  went  on.  "  You  see  me  now  a  detected  im 
postor, —  a  schemer,  who  concealed  facts  to  suit  his 
own  purpose,  —  who  ought  before  he  approached 
you  to  have  let  you  understand  that  a  fatality 
kept  us  apart." 

She  had  gathered  Larry  into  her  arms  more 
closely,  and,  holding  him  there,  leaned  forward  and 
looked  up  with  her  brave  child's  face,  and  said  with 
a  sob :  — 

"I  did  feel  for  a  moment,  —  when  I  heard, — 
that  I  wished  you  had  trusted  me  more  completely. 
You  told  me  we  were  friends,  yet  you  kept  me  in 
the  dark  about  your  history,  —  locked  it  up  in 
silence  "  — 

A  shudder  ran  through  him. 

"  The  thing  was  abhorrent  to  me,  —  abhorrent,i' 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  1  could  not  speak  of  it. 
I  could  never  get  used  to  it  even  in  my  own 
thoughts."  He  walked  away  a  few  steps  hurriedly, 
then  returned.  "  I  could  by  an  effort  of  will  rea 
son  myself  into  the  belief  that  the  matter  was  easy 
and  simple.  I  could  think  to  myself  that  the  cir 
cumstances  were  not  unusual,  that  they  must  have 


RENUNCIATION.  417 

occurred  in  thousands  of  cases,  —  that  they  offered 
no  real  impediment,  that  I  was  free  before  God  and 
man.  I  could  think  what  blessedness  it  would  be 
if  I  could  win  you.  I  could  say  to  myself  that  — 
that  if  you  would  consent  to  love  me  I  might  yet 
prove  myself  not  altogether  unworthy ;  yet  all  the 
time  I  was  oppressed  by  the  consciousness  that  the 
tie  was  there,  that  nothing  could  alter  or  break  it, 
that  it  was  an  irremediable  fact,  that  I  .had  with 
open  eyes  made  my  fate  for  myself  and  must  bear 
the  penalty ;  only,  Constance,  from  the  moment  my 
eyes  fell  on  you,  I  loved  you,  loved  you,  loved 
you." 

"  It  was  my  fault,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  I  blame 
myself."  The  expression  of  her  face  as  she  looked 
up,  with  its  yearning  of  sympathy,  gripped  his 
heart. 

"  Your  fault !  "  he  repeated,  with  half-amused 
irony.  "  Of  course  it  was  your  fault."  He 
paused  a  moment,  and  his  eyes  devoured  her  face  ; 
then  he  went  on  hurriedly  :  "  I  went  away  from  you 
last  Sunday  in  a  mood  fit  for  Heaven.  Still  the 
presentiment  must  have  been  in  my  mind,  for  I 
dreamed  of  her,  dreamed  of  her  hideously.  Then 
the  next  night  I  went  home,  and  there  she  was 
planted  at  my  fireside.  ...  I  have  said  to  myself  a 
hundred  times  since  that  if  I  had  had  the  will,  the 
nerve,  the  courage  of  a  man,  if  I  had  not  been  a 
coward,  I  should  have  sent  her  away  011  the  instant, 
or  at  least  have  taken  Larry  in  my  arms  and  left 


418      THE  8TOEY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTUE. 

her  to  her  barren  triumph.  But  I  faltered  with  a 
fear  of  being  cruel,  —  I  dallied,  I  waited  to  see  how 
events  woidd  turn.  I  have  sometimes,  in  living  over 
and  over  again  every  detail  of  my  life  with  her, 
confessed  to  myself  that  perhaps  I  had  been  over- 
hasty  and  harsh.  Accordingly,  now  I  was  the  more 
constrained  to  say,  k  She  is  Larry's  mother ;  it 
would  be  cruel  to  forbid  her  the  right  to  see  the 
child,'  and — and  she  had  the  softness,  the  allure 
ment  which  disarms  a  man,  —  makes  him  feel  that  a 
woman  is  a  tenderer  thing  than  himself.  Besides, 
—  but  no  matter,  the  fact  remains,  I  did  not  drive 
her  out.  She  sat  down  at  my  hearth,  she  had  a 
place  opposite  me  at  table,  she  talked  and  frolicked 
with  the  boy,  —  drew  his  head  to  her  breast,  — 
made  a  domestic  picture,  —  with  a  tact,  a  skill  of 
which  I  should  not  have  believed  her  capable,  pre 
tended  to  feel  regret,  repentance,  remorse,  —  she 
even  told  me  of  her  aspirations  to  come  back  and 
try  it  all  over  again.  It  was  all  a  bribe  to  my 
love  for  Larry." 

The  boy  —  a  little  constrained  and  ill  at  ease,  feel 
ing,  too,  that  the  clasp  upon  him  was  relaxed,  as 
his  father  leaned  towards  the  girl  in  his  low-toned 
explanation,  broken  every  now  and  then  by  an  in 
tonation  which  seemed  like  a  smothered  cry,  his 
face  pale,  his  eyes  full  of  anguish  —  had  crept 
away  and  was  kneeling  before  a  cabinet  at  a  little 
distance.  There  were  idols,  and  strange  carvings ; 
a  wonderful  dragon,  too,  which  moved  under  his 


RENUNCIATION.  419 

touch  like  a  thing  of  life,  with  scales  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  eyes  of  sparkling  gems.  He  uttered  a 
startled  exclamation  as  the  creature  seemed  to  coil 
itself  and  spring. 

"  Look !  "  he  cried,  but  Garthe  and  Constance, 
both  pale,  with  trembling  lips,  were  gazing  at  each 
other,  and  saw  nothing. 

She  was  looking  at  him,  feeling  the  need  of 
speech,  but  yet  could  hardly  bring  her  stiffened 
lips  to  utter  a  syllable.  He  saw  the  struggle  in 
her  face  and  waited ;  he  took  her  hand  gently 
between  his,  saying,  soothingly :  — 

"  What  is  it,  dear  one  ?  " 

She  did  not  repulse  him,  but  looked  at  him, 
and  let  him  fold  both  his  hands  over  hers.  A  little 
tremor  passed  over  her  face,  a  few  tears  gathered, 
then  she  could  falter  out,  — 

"  Lawrence,  if  she  loved  you,  —  if  she  trusted 
you,  —  if  "- 

He  looked  into  her  face  wonderingly. 

"  She  did  not  love  me,  —  she  did  not  trust  me. 
She  is  a  woman  whose  heart  is  snares  and  nets." 

"But  —  but,"  whispered  Constance,  "you  your 
self  just  said  that  nothing  could  alter  the  fact,  and 
if  —  for  Larry's  sake  "  — 

He  had  dropped  her  hands  ;  he  stood  erect,  and 
looked  down  at  her  with  a  look  as  if  his  whole  soul 
were  wrung. 

"  Would  you  condemn  me  to  that  fate  ?  "  he 
asked. 


420      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  If  she  loved  you,  —  if  she  trusted  you,  —  if  she 
longed  to  atone  "  —  said  Constance,  unable  to  raise 
her  eyes,  yet  filled  with  the  need  of  expressing  all 
that  had  been  in  her  heart  and  mind  since  yester 
day,  —  believing,  too,  that  the  irrevocable  had  hap 
pened —  that  the  turning-point  in  their  lives  had 
come,  and  that  Garthe's  mission  to-day  was  to  vin 
dicate  his  course  to  her.  Although  she  could  not 
look  up,  she  could  stretch  out  her  arms  at  full 
length  in  an  attitude  of  beseeching.  "  I  am  sure 
she  had  been  very  unhappy." 

Garthe  came  a  little  nearer. 

"Let  me  tell  you  what  happened,"  he  said  qui 
etly.  "  The  night  was  snowy,  there  was  a  raging 
tempest,  —  she  could  not  go  away,  and  finally  I 
did  what  I  might  better  have  done  at  first,  —  I 
walked  straight  out  of  the  house  into  the  drifts 
and  the  cutting  wind.  I  would  not  be  entrapped." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  painfully  silenced,  yet  not 
comprehending  anything  except  that  she  must  in 
no  way  do  injustice  even  to  the  woman  for  whom 
she  felt  an  instinct  of  unsurmountable  aversion  and 
dread. 

"  I  had  neither  hat  nor  cloak,"  he  pursued,  with  a 
half  laugh,  "  and  it  was  almost  a  matter  of  surprise, 
when  after  walking  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  I  came  to 
a  hotel  which  still  showed  lights ;  I  was  admitted, 
and  given  a  room.  I  went  into  it  and  sat  down. 
Whether  I  was  cold  or  warm,  wet  or  dry,  I  do  not 
know ;  I  only  remember  that  I  felt  stifled  and 


RENUNCIATION.  421 

suffocated,  and  missed  the  cool  beat  of  the  sleet 
upon  my  face.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  to  go  to  bed, 
—  still  there  was  a  benumbing  mist  over  my  facul 
ties  ;  I  could  not  think  coherently,  or  realize,  ex 
cept  by  effort,  what  the  real  situation  was.  I  said 
then,  audibly,  I  think,  '  I  am  under  the  ban,  —  I 
have  lost  Constance.  "We  can  never  be  married.' ' 

He  stopped  short.    Constance  had  made  a  gesture. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  you  had  a 
feeling  that  I  —  that  it  somehow  concerned  me  — 
but  let  all  that  go.  Of  course,  it  could  not  be,  — 
it  belonged  to  another  condition  of  things.  You 
have  said  over  and  over  that  the  feeling  —  for  me 
—  had  come  upon  you  unawares,  —  that  even  when 
you  tried  to  make  it  seem  easy  and  natural  you 
had  felt  that  a  fatality  separated  us." 

"  Not  if  you  loved  me,  —  not  if  you  would  ven 
ture  to  give  yourself  to  me,"  said  Garthe  in  a  clear, 
tender  tone,  and  with  a  glance  which  penetrated 
to  her  very  soul,  and  which  gave  her  the  feeling  of 
being  compelled  against  her  will  to  lay  bare  her 
deepest  consciousness. 

"  I  could  not,  —  I  could  not,  —  I  ought  not,  —  it 
would  not  be  right,"  she  cried,  urged  by  a  necessity 
of  leaving  him  free  t<v  act,  no  matter  at  what  cost 
to  herself.  "  I  did  not  know,  —  I  could  not  guess, 
- 1  feel  that  you  belong  to  your  old  life,  unalter 
ably  ;  and  you  have  almost  said  in  so  many  words 
that  in  finding  her  there  you  felt  your  old  love  for 
her  return." 


422      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  No,  no,  no ;  a  thousand  times,  no,"  he  cried  out 
almost  fiercely. 

"  She  is  a  beautiful  woman,"  said  Constance 
quietly. 

"  She  is  a  beautiful  woman,  I  admit,"  replied 
Garthe.  "  Let  me  resolve  as  I  might,  all  through 
these  six  years,  never  to  think  of  her,  still  the  idea 
haunted  me  that  she  was  young,  that  life  might  be 
cruel  to  her.  It  was  a  relief  to  see  that  she  had 
not  suffered,  rather  had  developed  beyond  expecta 
tion.  But  as  for  loving  her,"  he  went  on,  "  rather 
I  hated  her,  or  more  truly  I  might  say  that  I  felt 
insulted,  humiliated,  that  she  had  somehow  con 
trived  to  develop,  improve,  attain  wealth,  ease, 
position.  Her  soft  white  hands,  laden  with  rings, 
the  diamonds  at  her  throat,  the  fit  of  her  gown,  — 
the  way  she  stood,  sat,  smiled,  spoke,  —  each  was 
an  added  insult ;  it  galled  me,  —  it  stung  me,  —  it 
represented  all  I  rejected,  repudiated." 

His  breathing  was  quick  and  painful ;  his  face 
was  flushed,  his  eyes  burning.  Every  word  he 
uttered  seemed  to  oppress  and  torture  him. 

"  He  loves  her,"  Constance  said  within  herself, 
her  own  face  crimsoning,  a  wave  of  intense  feeling 
passing  through  her.  "  He  loves  her  still,  as  a 
man  can  love  but  once."  Then  she  said  aloud :  — 

"  But  she  still  feels  that  her  life  is  bound  up  in 
yours." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  he  demanded,  turning  on 
her  quickly. 


RENUNCIATION.  423 

"  She  was  here  yesterday,"  said  Constance. 

"  You  saw  her  ?  She  spoke  to  you  ?  It  was  she 
who  communicated  the  facts  ?  " 

"  It  was  to  Kathy  she  spoke.  There  was  some 
mistake." 

He  uttered  a  passionate  exclamation,  stood  for 
an  instant  looking  down  at  her,  then  walked  to  a 
little  distance  and  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  floor. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  very  angry,  but  pres 
ently  he  spoke  with  perfect  self-control. 

"  She  had,  perhaps,  heard  that  I  wished  to 
marry  you,  but  confounded  your  identity  with  that 
of  Mrs.  Garner." 

"  Evidently,"  Constance  murmured,  shrinking. 

"It  is  as  if  I  had  committed  a  crime,"  he 
said  with  bitter  irony.  "  I  am  chained  to  it, 
I  cannot  rid  myself  of  it ;  my  whole  life  is  irre 
mediably  spoiled  by  it." 

"It  need  not  be  irremediably  spoiled,"  she  said 
gently. 

His  eyes  searched  her  face. 

"  You  mean  that "  - 

"  I  mean  that  she  loves  you,  trusts  you,  wishes 
to  atone,"  said  Constance,  using  again  the  same 
formula  of  words  she  had  used  before.  "  It  is 
possible  for  you  to  be  happy  yet." 

He  gave  her  a  strange  glance. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,"  he  said  quietly,  "  what  else 
happened  Monday  night,  or  rather  Tuesday  morn 
ing.  At  first,  when  she  had,  as  it  were,  made  a 


424      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

bid  for  Larry,  I  had  been  too  angry,  too  stupefied  to 
feel  certain  of  what  I  actually  thought  about  the 
matter.  Sometimes,  as  I  sat  there,  rigid  as  a  dead 
man,  it  occurred  to  me  that  since  I  was,  of  course, 
unalterably  separated  from  you,  the  course  she 
suggested  might  be  the  very  best  thing.  For  my 
self,  what  did  anything  matter?  For  Larry,  it 
might  simplify  the  facts  of  every-day  existence  not 
to  be  separated  from  his  mother.  Thus  my  mind, 
conscious  only  of  a  terrible  dreariness,  of  the 
quenching  of  the  spark  of  hope  I  had  been  walking 
by,  of  the  victory  of  darkness  over  light,  groped 
on  in  its  despair.  But  finally,  with  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  rose  of  dawn,  with  a  star  shining  above 
the  arch  in  the  east,  I  at  last  saw  clearly ;  I  would 
die  before  I  ever  again  had  part  or  lot  with  that 
woman.  My  first  duty  was  to  get  Larry  away 
from  that  wild  beast  ambushed  in  my  house.  As 
soon  as  I  could  procure  a  conveyance,  I  went  for 
my  little  son  and  took  him  with  me." 

"  See,  papa ! "  cried  Larry  in  triumph,  having 
by  this  time  mastered  the  dragon,  and  holding  him 
in  a  fast  grasp. 

"  Come,  dear,  we  must  go,"  said  Garthe.  He 
took  hold  of  the  boy's  hand  and  went  up  to  Con 
stance.  "  I  do  not  know  what  I  can  say,"  he 
murmured,  "except  good-by,  and  to  ask  you  to 
forgive  me  for  bringing  anything  painful  and 
disagreeable  into  your  life." 

She  put  out  both  hands  with'  a  sort  of  sob. 


REN  UN  CIA  TION.  425 

"  I  have  vexed  you,"  she  said,  in  a  broken  voice, 
"  and  yet "  — 

"  Yet  you  consider  everything  over  between  us, 
—  that  so  long  as  she  lives  she  separates  me  from 
any  other  possible  life  ?  " 

She  was  conscious  of  the  question  in  his  eyes, 
and  cowered. 

"  Kiss  Larry,  will  you  not  ?  "  said  Garthe  gently. 

She  drew  the  child  to  her,  clasped  him  in  her 
arms,  looking  into  his  wondering,  loving  face,  and 
said  softly :  "  Good-by,  dear." 

Tears  overcame  her ;  when  she  looked  up  again 
they  were  gone.  She  rose  and  walked  towards  the 
door.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  say  one 
word  more  or  her  heart  would  break.  She  put 
aside  the  curtains  and  looked  out,  but  no  one  was 
to  be  seen  except  a  servant,  who  approached  her 
with  the  message  that  a  lady  had  come  in  while 
she  was  engaged  with  her  visitor  and  was  waiting 
for  her  upstairs  in  the  morning-room. 

It  flashed  across  the  mind  of  Constance  instantly 
that  this  must  be  the  alienated  wife,  come  anew 
with  some  request  for  mediation,  some  petition  for 
help.  In  spite  of  her  wish  to  undo  any  possible 
wrong  she  had  done,  and  to  avert  any  fresh  mis 
take,  her  instinctive  feeling  towards  the  woman 
who  made  calamity  of  Lawrence  Garthe's  life  was 
of  dread.  How  could  she  meet  her  ?  She  hated  to 
think  of  her  against  the  background  of  the  peace 
ful  blue-and-white  room,  as  she  approached  it. 


426      THE  STORY  OF  LAWBENCE  GAR  THE. 

The  thought  of  the  ordeal  gave  her  courage 
against  the  pain  she  was  suffering,  and  she  entered 
the  place  with  a  look  of  heightened  resolution; 
then,  catching  a  glimpse  of  her  visitor,  who  had 
risen,  she  exclaimed :  — 

"  Miss  Shepard  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  Eugenia  Shepard,"  said  the  other, 
clasping  her  hand.  "  Will  you  forgive  me  for 
coming  in  this  way?  I  heard  you  had  a  visitor, 
and  I  wished  particularly  to  see  you  alone,  not 
even  with  Mrs.  Garner." 

"  She  has  gone  out.  I  am  not  sure  when  she 
will  be  back,"  said  Constance,  with  eagerly 
awakened  conjectures  as  to  what  the  visit  must 
mean.  Miss  Shepard's  connection  with  that  other 
person  suddenly  loomed  up  with  more  or  less  of 
threat  in  it. 

"  May  I  close  'the  door  ?  "  the  visitor  asked. 

Constance  instantly  acted  on  the  suggestion, 
and  stood  waiting,  her  whole  face  kindled  with 
some  feeling  which  seemed  almost  like  defiance. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence;  Miss  Shepard, 
looking  at  the  girl,  was  conscious  that  her  young 
heart  must  be  beating  with  some  strange  excite 
ment. 

"  You  know,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  that  I  have 
been  living  with  Mrs.  Hernandez  as  companion, 
secretary,  what  not  ?  " 

«4 1  have  heard  it." 

"  You  will  comprehend   that   there  is  little  of 


RENUNCIATION.  427 

Mrs.  Hernandez'  history  with  which  I  am  unac 
quainted." 

"  I  can  readily  believe  it  if  you  say  so,"  said 
Constance  calmly. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  she  was  married 
to  Mr.  Ferdinand  Hartley  at  nine  o'clock  this 
morning,  and  that  at  eleven  o'clock  they  sailed  for 
Europe.  I  drove  here  from  the  wharf  after  seeing 
them  off." 

"Married  to  Mr.  Hartley?"  Constance  repeated 
mechanically,  growing  intensely  pale  and  her  eyes 
full  of  dismay. 

"  Yes ;  will  you  tell  Mrs.  Garner  this  piece  of 
news,  which  may  or  may  not  interest  her?  Of 
course  it  will  be  in  the  evening  paper,  but  I  felt  it 
best  to  come  and  give  it  to  her  myself,  or  rather 
to  beg  you  to  do  so." 

"  Married  to  Mr.  Hartley?  "  Constance  reiterated, 
as  if  still  incredulous. 

"  This  final  climax  was  sudden,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Shepard,  "but  it  did  not  surprise  me.  She  has 
been  for  weeks  wavering  on  the  verge  of  a  decision 
to  accept  Mr.  Hartley,  going  forward  and  back, 
but  I  felt  that  some  end  like  this  was  inevitable." 

She  was  startled  by  a  change  of  color  in  the 
face  of  the  girl  before  her,  and  by  her  confused 
movement  backward  as  if  reaching  out  blindly  for 
a  chair.  She  flung  her  arm  about  the  slender 
figure,  but  in  a  moment  Constance  had  regained 
her  self-command. 


428      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

"  May  I  sit  down  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  curiously 
humble  intonation.  "  I  am  not  quite  well  to-day.'' 

She  looked  at  Miss  Shepard,  mute,  but  her  eyes 
were  full  of  questions  for  which  she  could  not 
easily  find  words.  "  I  do  not  quite  understand,' 
she  said  after  this  silence  in  which  she  seemed  to 
have  been  groping  for  some  clue.  "  Mrs.  Hernan 
dez  was  here  yesterday  "  — 

"  It  was  that  circumstance  which  brought  me 
here  to-day,"  said  Miss  Shepard  angrily.  "  From 
what  she  told  me  of  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Garner  I  felt 
sure  that  she  had  tried  to  make  trouble,  —  to 
meddle  between  her  and  Mr.  Garthe.  She  had 
heard  that  they  were  engaged." 

Miss  Shepard's  eyes  sought  Constance's  face 
questioningly. 

"  Mrs.  Garner's  engagement  to  Mr.  John  March- 
inont  is  already  announced  to  our  friends,"  said 
Constance  quietly  and  proudly. 

"  Then  she  was  misled  by  a  false  rumor.  In 
any  case,  since  she  came  to  this  house,  I  felt  it 
my  duty  to  make  things  clear.  She  tried  to  do 
harm,  she  endeavored  to  give  a  false  impression. 
She  is  not  absolutely  without  conscience  unless  an 
impulse  possesses  her,  then  she  is  ruthless.  When 
the  fancy  seizes  her  that  she  wishes  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  she  lets  herself  be  run  away  by  it  regardless 
of  consequences.  She  never  repents,  —  she  does 
not  know  what  repentance  means.  It  is  enough 
for  her  to  dismiss  the  idea  of  what  she  has  done, 


KEN  UN  CIA  TION.  429 

—  to  say  that  the  past  is  past,  —  then  she  troubles 
herself  no  more  about  it.  She  remarked  to  me 
this  morning  that  she  had  burned  all  her  ships 
behind  her,  and  should  never  think  of  her  life  in 
New  York  again,  for  she  hated  it."  Eugenia's 
tone  was  abrupt  and  scornful. 

There  was  silence  again. 

" 1  do  not  wish  to  speak  ill  of  her,"  she  went  011 
again  with  fresh  impetuosity.  "  In  her  way  she 
has  been  good  to  me.  Without  her  I  should  have 
missed  my  opportunity.  Not  that  I  was  wholly 
egoistic,  —  wholly  sordid.  I  believed  in  her  at 
first.  I  believed  there  was  a  strength  in  her,  —  a 
touch  of  greatness,  a  sort  of  dramatic  force  which 
might  be  developed,  —  might  be  the  means  of  rais 
ing  others.  I  used  to  be  certain  that  I  could 
bring  her  to  different  views  of  life  from  those 
which  had  hitherto  actuated  her,  —  could  make 
her  feel  that  her  experience  had  been  an  edu 
cation,  a  preparation  for  a  high  mission."  There 
had  been  an  eager  vindication  of  herself  in  her 
tone ;  now  she  uttered  a  short,  harsh  laugh.  "  I 
was  deceived.  She  is  a  woman  whom  nothing  can 
bind,  —  any  tie  is  something  to  fling  away  the 
moment  it  becomes  a  burden." 

Constance  rose  with  a  sudden  swift  movement, 
and  put  her  hand  on  the  other's  arm.  "  Tell  me," 
she  said  hastily,  "  if  she  spoke  to  you  about  going 
to  see  Mr.  Garthe." 

"  She  told  me  the  entire  story.     You  see,  Miss 


430      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHE. 

Garner,  it  has  been  her  habit  to  pour  everything 
out  to  me ;  she  said  I  was  her  conscience-keeper. 
From  the  moment  she  heard  that  Mr.  Garthe  was 
in  New  York,  there  was  a  new,  fierce  restlessness 
about  her.  She  talked  of  him  incessantly ;  her 
mind  seemed  perfectly  taken  possession  of  by  the 
thought  of  him  ;  she  cared  for  nothing  else.  Do 
you  know  him  well?"  Miss  Shepard  added,  paus 
ing  abruptly  in  her  narration  and  flinging  out  this 
question. 

A  consuming  blush  rose  to  Constance's  pale 
face.  Her  lips  quivered,  her  eyes  brimmed  over. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  shaken  by  a  strange  agitation. 

"  Do  I  need  to  justify  him  to  you  ? "  asked 
Eugenia  again. 

"  No,  no ;  I  believe  in  him  from  the  bottom  of 
my  soul,"  cried  Constance,  with  a  new  intensity  in 
her  face  and  tone. 

"  I  asked,"  Eugenia  said  very  softly,  "  because 
it  has  been  my  own  experience  that  even  where 
human  lives  meet  most  closely,  painful  and  pitiful 
alienation  sometimes  happens  because  the  truth  is 
not  made  clear.  The  real  substance  and  meaning  of 
things  eludes,  but  leaves  the  misleading  husk  in  our 
hands.  So  if  you  had  any  doubt  of  Mr.  Garthe  "  — 

"  I  have  none,  not  the  slightest,"  cried  Con 
stance,  as  if  she  might  in  this  way  atone  for  a 
momentary  perfidy.  "  If,"  she  went  on  with  more 
agitation  in  her  voice,  "  I  believed  for  a  moment 
what  she  said  about  her  wish  to  return  to  him  ''  — 


RENUNCIATION.  431 

"  She  return  to  him  ? "  repeated  Miss  Shep- 
ird.  "Every  spark  of  feeling  she  had  ever  felt 
or  Mr.  Garthe  had  turned  into  a  wish  to  sting 
dm,  to  torture  him.  She  was  still  jealous,  but  it 
yas  a  savage  instinct ;  it  had  no  touch  of  love  in 
t.  If  he  had  yielded  to  her,  shown  her  the  least 
ouch  of  the  old  feeling,  she  would  have  derided  it, 
aughed  it  to  scorn." 

The  expression  of  Constance's  face  almost 
tartled  her :  she  saw  in  it  something  that  was 
lalf  joy  and  half  terror,  a  clear  relief,  as  if  some 
jreat  dread  had  passed,  and  yet  a  sorrow  which 
lad  to  be  accepted  and  borne. 

"  I  have  meddled  enough  in  affairs  which  do  not 
concern  me,"  Miss  Shepard  now  said  with  plenty  of 
lecision.  "  I  must  go  ;  if  I  have  intruded  " 

"  You  have  been  most  kind,  most  helpful,"  said 
Constance.  "If  I  have  seemed  ungrateful,  it  is 
mly  that  my  thoughts  have  been  absorbed  by  what 
rou  have  told  me.  I  thank  you  sincerely." 

"  Then  I  have  only  to  say  good-by,"  said  Miss 
Shepard,  looking  once  more  into  the  girl's  pale 
:ace,  then  going  out,  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
street,  with  a  feeling  that  the  trouble  she  saw  in 
Constance's  eyes  was  one  that  no  third  person 
3ould  directly  touch. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AFTER   LONG   GRIEF   AND   PAIN. 

SOME  months  later  Constance  left  the  hotel  at 
Miirren  one  afternoon  where  she  was  staying  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Marchmont,  who,  having  been 
married  soon  after  Easter,  had  come  abroad  for 
the  summer,  bringing  her  with  them.  It  had  been 
a  transition  time  with  her  ;  everything  old  and  pre 
cious  had  been  waning,  and  nothing  new  and  en 
during  had  yet  waxed  to  fullness.  She  had  never 
seen  Lawrence  Garthe  since  he  had  brought  Larry 
to  her  on  that  strange  morning  long  ago,  and  had 
only  heard  from  him  in  a  hasty  note  explaining 
that  he  had  suddenly  decided  to  join  a  party  of 
scientists  going  to  South  America.  She  had  writ 
ten  in  reply,  but  he  had  not  answered,  and  his 
silence  had  been  painful.  But  she  felt  that  she 
deserved  the  pain. 

She  left  the  hotel,  walking  along  the  precipice 
above  the  gorge  under  the  grim  shadow  of  the 
Monch,  descending  into  the  dell,  then  climbing  the 
steep  ascent  to  the  ridges  which  dominated  the  high 
meadow  lands,  where  peasants  in  Bernese  costume 
were  making  hay  in  picturesque  fashion.  As  she 
toiled  up  the  last  narrow  path  rudely  paved,  she 


AFTER  LONG  GEIEF  AND  PAIN.  433 

met  a  little  girl  flying  down  the  steps,  her  face 
lighted  up  with  the  joy  of  her  own  daring,  and  her 
blonde  hair  floating  behind  in  the  wind.  Constance 
loved  all  children  in  these  days;  she  caught  the 
little  creature  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  twice. 

Just  this  pause  was  needed  to  detain  her  and 
keep  her  in  sight,  and  give  the  direction  to  the  man 
who  was  following  her.  Gaining  the  fragrant  pas 
ture  above,  the  girl  sat  down,  her  heart  and  her  eyes 
open  to  the  glory  of  the  great  snow  peaks,  which 
heaved  up  their  dazzling  heads  and  shoulders 
against  the  blue  sky.  Gazing  at  them,  she  half  re 
clined  along  the  rock.  All  about  her  was  a  bed  of 
flowers,  familiar,  yet  eloquently  strange  when  found 
at  home  here  —  campanulas,  velvety,  purplish-black 
pansies  with  golden  eyes,  bluest  forget-me-nots, 
great  silver-gray  thistles,  violets,  and  saxifrage  of 
every  hue.  From  behind  the  ridge  came  the  sound 
of  a  cascade,  and  from  all  sides  the  tinkle  of  cow 
bells  and  the  occasional  pipe  of  a  goatsherd. 

It  was  here  that  Lawrence  Garthe  overtook  her. 
He  had  met  Mr.  Marchmont,  and  had  heard  that 
Constance  was  wandering  somewhere  on  the  high 
fragrant  pasture  lands.  Presently,  when  he  thought 
she  had  studied  out  the  ice-bound  peaks  of  the  Ober- 
land,  he  put  his  hand  on  her  broad-brimmed  hat. 

She  looked  up ;  she  would  have  started  to  her 
feet,  but  he  stooped,  his  arm  was  around  her,  and 
he  knelt  beside  her.  Still  he  did  not  speak,  but 
he  drew  her  towards  him  and  their  lips  met. 


434      THE  STORY  OF  LAWRENCE  GARTHS. 

"  You  took  me  by  surprise,"  she  said  hastily,  and 
moved  away  a  little. 

"  I  saw  you  kiss  the  little  maiden,"  Garthe  ob 
served,  smiling.  "  She  did  not  care  for  the  kiss  as 
I  did,  so  I  took  it  from  her  and  gave  her  a  franc 
for  it." 

He  looked  at  her.  "  Constance,"  he  murmured, 
"  is  it  still  impossible  for  you  to  believe  in  me  ?  " 

"  I  always  believed  in  you,"  she  said  passionately. 
"  I  could  not  have  gone  on  living  all  these  months, 
unless  I  believed  in  you." 

She  extended  her  little  bare,  trembling  hand. 

He  clasped  it.  "  Your  letter  reached  me  three 
weeks  ago,"  he  said,  — "  the  letter  in  which  you 
asked  me  to  leave  Larry  with  you  when  I  went  to 
South  America." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  It  has  altered  all  these  months  for  me,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  missed  it.  It  would  have  given  me  great 
happiness  to  have  had  the  assurance  that  you  cared 
for  Larry,  for  you  knew  all  the  time  that  we  were 
one  and  indivisible.  If  you  wanted  him,  you 
wanted  me." 

"  Where  is  Larry  now  ?  "  she  struggled  to  say. 

"  At  Zurich  ;  I  have  often  left  him  there  before 
with  some  worthy  people.  I  received  your  letter 
at  Lima.  It  filled  me  with  I  know  not  what  hopes, 
—  it  made  me  frantic  to  see  you.  I  returned  to 
New  York  as  soon  as  I  could,  found  out  that  you 
were  abroad,  and  probably  in  Switzerland.  I 


AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN.  435 

sailed  the  next  clay  for  Bremen,  and  now  for  a  week 
I  have  been  following  you  and  the  Marchmonts 
about  from  place  to  place."  He  leaned  towards 
her.  The  shadow  of  the  broad-brimmed  hat  hid 
the  upper  part  of  her  face ;  he  could  only  see  the 
lips  and  chin. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  see  if  you 
forgive  me  " 

"  Forgive  you  ? "  said  Constance  in  a  broken 
voice.  They  said  no  more ;  they  sat  with  clasped 
hands,  finding  no  words  to  utter,  and  needing 
none. 


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JUL2  3  1956  LI 

<Ji  1  6 


Ka  cm-    AMR  2  j 


50m-7,'lG 


1 


393776 


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